


There's evil in your heart (it wants out to play)

by juggydunes



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternative Universe - FBI, F/M, Serial Killers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-12-06 16:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11604663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juggydunes/pseuds/juggydunes
Summary: "I look down at my hands, they’re coated in blood. I instantly know it’s not mine, it never is."When a new type of evil hits Riverdale, Betty finds herself right in the middle. With the help of two FBI agents, will they be able to solve it in time?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Sigh* Oh man, it's happening.  
> I've been sitting on this fic for... More than two months now I think? I'm not sure. It all started as a little prompt and it developed into this huge beast that has a life on its own now. 
> 
> First I'd like to thank Jandy for being an excellent friend and helping me get through this, lifting my spirits and taking my hand as I dive through this fic. You're the best, J! 
> 
> Other than that, I really hope you enjoy. This fic has a special place in my heart because I've spent so much time outlining and researching to make it as believable as possible. 
> 
> Love you all!

 

> _“Oh, dear… look at this one.” She says, looking down at the photo album I’m holding. I follow her sight on to the one she’s pointing._  
> 
> _A group of happy people, dressed in formal clothes and standing close to each other as they smile at the camera. I inspect it, silently wondering if I should take the picture after I’m done. For now, I only look at it, listening to her as she tells me little details and stories about that time._
> 
>   _“Such fun times. I often say it was the happiest years of my life, working there. I was never much a stay-in-home woman. I love my kids, they’re my life… but there’s something about that period of time in my life that fills my heart with joy.” She says, a small smile on her face. The woman scoffs, turning her amused eyes to me. “Oh, you’re much too young and nice, listening to me ramble about the old times. I’m sorry, honey.”_  
> 
> _“No, please. Do go on, it’s very interesting.” I say, then pause. “First, would you mind if I used your restroom?”_  
> 
> _“Oh, no. Please, down the hall, first door to the right.” She tells me._  
> 
> _I stand up, gently putting the photo album on the coffee table and smile at her before making my way to the bathroom. I stare at my reflection for a moment, close my eyes and pray._  
> 
> _I fill the syringe slowly, carefully putting the vial in my back pocket. Turning around, I flush the toilet before slowly making my way outside again. The woman is unaware, looking at the photo album with nostalgia in her posture. The little voice in my head presses me to move quickly… and I do._  
> 
> _“I was just about to show you-” She starts, cut short by my hand on her mouth. I can feel her tense below me, shock crashing down on her._  
> 
> _“Don’t worry...” I tell her, as the liquid from the syringe enters her body. “I will release you.”_
> 
>  

* * *

 

 

“Cooper.” 

Betty lifts her eyes from the paperwork in front of her and stares at her boss, Sheriff Keller, who’s leaning on the doorstep. 

“Yes, Sir?” She asks politely, leaving the pen on the desk to flex her tired fingers.

 “I need you to do a quick open and close case.” He replies, leaving a piece of paper with an address on her desk. “Joshua is held up doing other stuff, that’s why I’m sending you. We’re short of stuff today.”

 “No problem, boss. I’ll head right over.” She smiles at him, immediately standing up and picking up her jacket from the back of her seat. “What’s this about?”

 “Old lady wasn’t answering, she was found dead on her living room. It seems pretty standard but I still need you to go.” Sheriff Keller says before walking out.

 Betty sighs a little, cracking her neck as she walks out of the building.

 “Betty!” Veronica yells from behind her and she stops, waiting for her friend to catch up with her. “You’re going to the crime scene? The one with the old lady?”

 “Yeah, want me to drive you?” Betty asks her, tightening her ponytail.

 “Please! Lunch at Pop’s later?” Veronica asks. “We need to catch up, you still haven’t told me how your date went! That’s unacceptable.” 

“My date with Jake… it was fine.” Betty tells her as they get into the car.

  
“Oh no. That doesn't sound really good.” Veronica mutters, frowning.

 “He kept asking me for gory details about work.” She rolls her eyes at the memory, she had faked an emergency at work to get out of that date. 

“Really? Those are the worst. I hate the gleam they sometimes get in their eyes.” Veronica shudders. “I wish Riverdale had male residents that were not completely nuts.” 

“Pops is not completely nuts…” Betty says, a small smile on her face, which makes her friend glare at her.

  
“I wish Riverdale had male residents our age that were not completely nuts.”

 “Oh, okay now.” 

They laugh, enjoying the warm sun coming through the window as Betty drives to the victim’s house. It’s a cold day outside, but significantly less cold than yesterday, which makes Betty very happy. She’s never been a friend of cold, her fingers always being frozen and making writing difficult. Making everything difficult. She longed for summer and the warmth of the sun. 

Betty finally parks near the house and gets out of her car, closely followed by Veronica. 

“Hi Matt, you the officer in charge?” She asks the officer outside the house, who smiles at her gently. 

“Hello Betty. Yeah, I am. You came to take over?” 

“Yeah, Boss sent me. Care to brief me oh the situation?” They start walking towards the house as they speak. Betty and Veronica putting gloves on their hands as they go. 

“Sure. Neighbor called because she couldn’t get a hold of the victim, Susan Verichi. They called us, we rang the bell a few times, then opened the door and found her dead on the sofa.” Matt tells her. They step through the door and the faint odor of a decomposing body is noticeable.

 “There’s not much smell yet.” Veronica says, moving to leave her briefcase on the side of the room. Betty has to agree, they’ve had worst cases.

 The elderly woman is sitting with her eyes closed on the sofa. One would think she’s sleeping if it were not for the color of her skin or the fact that she was not breathing. Betty feels her walls come up as they do each time she sees this situations. 

This came from rough nights and Betty needing a way to deal with what she saw daily. Part of her didn’t want to lose her humanity and no longer be affected from what she saw, but other times, when it became rough… she wished she didn’t feel anything at all. 

“Rigor mortis is set in still, wearing off though. From the color of her skin and the stiffness I’d say it’s been roughly 30 hours since she died.” Veronica says, eyes scanning the body before getting her things from the briefcase.

 “Does she have any family?” Betty asks, looking at Matt.

 “Well, The neighbor said she was called by her daughter, they leave upstate, saying they couldn’t reach her and asking her to check.” Matt tells her, taking out his notebook. “I’ve got the phone right here.”

 “Oh, great. Has anyone contacted her yet?” Betty asks even though she knows the answer. Matt shakes his head no and she sighs internally. Nobody liked calling families to tell them their loved ones were dead. “Okay, I’ll call her once we get back to the office. Let’s gather what we need.”

 They set off to work quickly. Betty has to admit, her and Veronica make a great time at crime scenes. They’re totally in sync by now and know what to do and how to help the other.

 Betty looks around and writes everything on her notebook. No signs of forced entry. One cup of tea in front of the person, indicating she was alone when it happened. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, nothing is missing that they can tell. All of it point that she simply died of a possible heart attack while she was drinking her tea.

Still, looking at it all… Betty feels like something is missing. She has this gut feeling that has her going over and over everything in the scene. There’s something in the way the woman is frowning that doesn’t quite seem natural to her, the posture of the body…

 “There’s something wrong with her mouth.” Veronica says, making Betty look up.

 “What do you mean?” She asks her, getting closer to the body and inspecting the woman’s mouth.

 “Do you see the way her mouth is closed tightly? Most victims of her age, and if this was a heart attack, die with their mouth open.” Veronica explains, tilting her head to the side before writing something down. “It could be nothing, but I’ll check that when I do the autopsy.”

 “Please do.” Betty asks her, frowning down at the room. “Something about this feels weird.”

 “Your senses are tingling?” Veronica jokes, smiling at her friend. Betty is struck, once again, about the contrast of the situation.

 “Yeah, like Spiderman. Okay, I have everything I need, I’ll head back to the office. Need to make the call.” Betty says, smiling softly at Veronica’s wince of sympathy. “I’ll ask Matt to give you a lift.”

 Betty sits in her car for a moment, sighing and trying to shake the sensation of _wrong_ off her chest. She has learned to follow her gut by now, but it irks her how everything seemed ordinary, almost too much. Betty makes a mental list of the things she needs to finish today before she heads home and feels an impending heachache forming in her temples.

 Finally, with a another sigh, she starts the car and heads to the station… she had job to do.

 

* * *

 

Betty is taking off her jacket when Veronica storms into the room, looking the tiniest bit disheveled which on her always pristine exterior, it already sets off alarms for Betty.

 “Hey, I was waiting for you. Could you come to the morgue with me?” Veronica asks her, taking a deep breath.

 “Sure, everything okay?” She asks her friend before she follows her to the morgue.

 “Yeah… I’m fine. Just need to show you something.” Veronica opens the doors and Betty instantly regrets leaving her jacket on the chair. “Yesterday while I softened the victim’s rigor mortis, I remembered her mouth… and when I tried to open it, I couldn’t. So I had to open it up with a scalpel and look what I found…”

 Veronica moves to the left corner of the room where Susan Verichi’s body lays, mouth open and… maple syrup pouring from it. Ice spreads through her veins and her breath comes out shaky. A part of her is screaming _I knew it I knew it I knew it,_  the other wants to throw up at the view.

 She’s seen some gross stuff but the sticky substance looks so out of place she has to fight the impulse of whipping it off. It makes her shudder, the tips of her fingers going numb for a moment as she tries to regain her focus.

 “It was glued from the inside. Someone put like… super glue on the inside of her lips after filling her mouth and throat with maple syrup and glued it shut.” Veronica tells her, shaking her head.

 “What’s the cause of death?” Betty hears herself talk, still shocked and manages to tear her eyes away from the woman’s mouth, hers suddenly dry.

 “From what I can tell… heart attack.” Veronica’s frowns deepens. “This looks like normal causes, if it weren’t from… this insanity, I’d totally rule it out as a heart attack. I can’t find anything. No signs of struggle, no prints, nothing. Just that maple syrup… God, I’m not going to be able to eat pancakes for a while.”

 “Yeah…” Betty mutters absently, looking back at the body. The whitened corneas seem eerier now.

 In simple view, she can’t see anything either. The woman looks what constitutes as a normal death, possibly someone’s grandma whose heart just gave up one day as she was sipping her tea. Skin with patches of red as the livor mortis sets in, lifeless eyes and a sewn shut Y incision on her chest, it shouldn’t hit her as hard as it is. Betty purses her lips, half cursing her intuition.

 Riverdale is a quiet town. Nothing big ever happens more than a few robberies and casual thefts, nothing mayor. She wanted to help people, after everything that happened to her family… she wanted to prevent anyone to go through what she went through. Betty had even wondered if she should move somewhere where she could do _more._ Help more people, sometimes Riverdale felt just too small for her. Looking back at the woman’s body Betty wonders if she’s really ready for it.

 “Isn’t this the proof you were waiting for?” Veronica asks after a few moments of silence.

 “I guess.” Betty says but it sounds like a hollow question in her ears. “This just feels… bigger. I don’t know.”

 “I know what you mean.” Veronica agrees. “I already sent samples to the lab, we should get some more info in a couple days.”

 “Yeah… I’m going to make this my top priority.” Betty tells her, her mind already running. “Anything else?”

 “Not really. Like I said, it’s weird because the only thing that stands out is the syrup.”

 “ _Shit_...  Okay. I’ll go to my office and see what I can get from there.” She walks toward the door before turning back around. “Have you told the Sheriff?”

 “No, you’re the first one I told.” Veronica replies moving around the table to get some tools.

 “Okay, I’ll talk to him then now.” Betty says. “Thank you for your help, V.”

 “That’s what I’m here for.”

 With that, Betty leaves the morgue and takes a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart and also getting rid of the feeling that she’s way out of her depth. She makes the short way to the Sheriff's office quickly, knocking gently.

“Come in.” Sheriff Keller says, voice muffled by the door.

 Betty steps into the office, closing the door gently before facing her boss.

 “Yes, Cooper?”

 “Sir, I think we might have a strange case in our hands.” She starts, taking a seat. “The lady that died yesterday, Susan Verichi… I just came from the morgue, Veronica found her lips glued up, mouth and throat filled with maple syrup.”

 “I’m sorry… did you just say maple syrup?” The sheriff asks her, baffled expression on his face and she can relate to the feeling.

 “Yes, sir.” Betty replies. “Her mouth had been glued on the inside to, at least I assume, keep the syrup inside.”

 “Fuck…” He leans back on his chair, rubbing his face with his hands. “What else have you got? I thought this was supposed to be a open and close case.”

 “Me too… In fact, everything else looks normal.” Betty informs him, mentally gathering all the information she remembers about the case. “I called the family yesterday, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Veronica says the cause of death is most likely a heart attack, there were no prints or evidence left on the body.”

 “So you’re saying we have nothing.” He mutters, sighing.

 “Yet.” Betty agrees, down at her palms for a second. “I’m going to make this my top priority, just thought you should be in the loop.”

 “Yes, absolutely.” Keller tells her, frowning at the papers on his desk before looking at her. “You keep me informed on this, Cooper. I don’t want a psycho roaming my streets.”

 “Yes, sir.” Betty replies, nodding her head. “I’ll head to the office and gather all the information available, see what I can find.”

 Sheriff Keller nods gravely at her and she leaves him staring at the desk, deep frown on his forehead.

 

* * *

 

She’s been staring at these papers for so long they have stopped making sense, the declarations of Susan’s daughter and the autopsy information she has matches. Susan had suffered from a heart attack years ago, it could be totally possible that she suffered another one and died… that doesn’t explain the syrup.

 Sarah, Susan’s daughter, was supposed to come in tomorrow to finally identify the body and she was mentally preparing herself to break the news that this wasn’t a simple case. Taking off her glasses, Betty rubs at her temple, trying to rub the headache away when she hears voices coming from the hall.

 A tall, dark-haired man with an intense scowl come into the room, quickly followed by a ginger man and Sheriff Keller.

 “Cooper.” The Sheriff starts, a look of resignation on his face. “These are-”

 “Special Agent Jones and Andrews. We’re here to take over the Verichi case.” The tall and broody one, Jones, interrupts.

 “Excuse me?” Betty demands, getting up from her chair. “On what grounds? Who authorized this?”

 “The FBI sent us here.” The other agent says and Betty’s mouth falls open. _What could the FBI want with the case? Is this about the syrup?_

 “You can’t take away the case just like that!” Betty tells them then looks at the Sheriff for support, who only winces slightly and opens his mouth to answer.

 “Look.” Agent Jones speaks before Keller can, taking a step forward, hand on his hip. “I don’t have time for you to play Nancy Drew, I’m going to need every file and evidence you have.”

 “Nancy Drew? I’m a highly qualified detective!” Betty sneered, feeling baffled at the Agent’s words. _Nancy Drew? Who the fuck does he think he is?_

 “I’m sure you are, this is just not your jurisdiction anymore.” He replies, raising his eyebrows as if challenging her to say something else. Betty looks over at Sheriff Keller and he nods at  her, making all the battle drain from her in an instant.

 Betty quickly gathers all the papers on her desk and puts them carefully in a folder before handing them to Agent Broody pants, who is closest to her. He’s watching her intently as she drops the files on his hands. Part of her knows he’s only doing his job, the other part wants to give him a hard time for taking the case from her and calling Betty names without even knowing her, not that she has anything against Nancy Drew but…

 “The rest is in that box.” She points out to the box on the chair near her desk, which is taken by the ginger agent.

 “Thank you for your hard work.” He says. Betty thinks she imagines she slightly apologizing tone in his voice.

 “Do you need anything else?” Sheriff Keller asks them, not really looking welcoming.

 “Yes.” Agent Jones starts, folding the folder under his arm. “Could you facilitate us an office?  and… we might need a profiler.”

 “You’re looking at her.” Keller tells them, the corner of lips ticking up and Betty perks up at that, trying not to be smug herself at the confused look on the Agent’s face.

 “A profiler, not a detective.” He clarifies, as if he hadn’t been heard quite correctly.

 “I’m the station’s profiler. I have a bachelor’s degree but mostly work as a detective since we don’t normally have use for a full-time profiler.” She explains, puffing her chest out and chin up like her mother used to tell her to stand. There’s a glim of astonishment in the ginger’s eyes, while the other one seems to burn her with his gaze but Betty doesn’t back down and meets his eyes.

 There’s a moment of silence as they stare at each other when finally, he clears his throat.

 “This means longer hours, Detective. This means not going home tonight and being available when you’re needed.” He states. “This means not a word gets out of the office. Do you understand?”

 Betty looks at him for a moment, the feeling that something big is going on crawls back inside her head and seems to be ready to take permanent residence. She turns to look at Sheriff Keller for a second, who is staring at her intently, as if silently forcing her on.

 “Yes, I understand, Agent.” She replies, voice stoic and professional. Agent Jones looks at her for a beat then turns to his partner.

 “Let’s get to work.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

> _ When I emerge to consciousness, it takes me a few seconds to realise what’s happened. In reality I know I shouldn’t be surprised, it’s not like it hasn’t happened before… but it doesn’t take away the guilt and shame from running in my veins. _
> 
> _ I sigh and look down at my hands, they’re coated in blood. I instantly know it’s not mine, it never is. There’s a bigger amount of it this time, I realize. Turning my head around, I can see a female body that’s been beaten to a pulp a few feet from me and my car farther ahead. _
> 
> _ Damn it. _
> 
> _ The clock ticks 2.36 am on a friday night and my possibilities of having a quiet night are instantly ruined. I wince at the thought, knowing that I don’t deserve a quiet night after my show of poor self-control. _
> 
> _ I look up at the sky, move to my knees and pray for forgiveness. I don’t take it for granted, but these episodes are not something I control. I’ll just wake up and there’ll be a body next to me. _
> 
> _ Walking towards it now, I watch it carefully. She’s not breathing. A small sense of relief takes over my body, maybe this wasn’t so bad. Her face is barely recognizable and I can discern some tattoos on her legs, which make me wince in disgust. _
> 
> _ I quickly figure out where I am and the closest river or forest before I go to look for plastic bags in the trunk of my car. _
> 
> _ I have a long night ahead of me. _
> 
>  

  
  


 

Betty enters the station, holding carefully all the coffees in her hands, slowly making her way to the office. She gently nods at Madeline in reception, who smiles at her as usual. She’s that kind of person who is always perky and smiling, it makes her heart melt a little. Finding a bright spot in the station is always good.

When she arrives at the office she’s surprised to see Agent Jones sitting at the table and staring at what he’d called yesterday their “murder board”. Betty’s lips tick up at the memory, in all the somberness of the issue, it had made her chuckle.

“Hello.” Betty says, putting the coffees at the end of the table. “Am I late?”

“Hello, Cooper.” Agent Jones replies, barely looking at her. “Not at all, I’m early. Andrews isn’t even here yet… get used to that though. He’s a great partner but he has chronic unpunctuality.” He looks at her with a small smile.

They had talked a little more since yesterday’s altercation. Enough for her not to want to claw his eyes out anymore. He had asked her to walk him through every single bit of information she had gathered, and she had become increasingly amazed at his dedication and interest to know and ask questions. Contrary to popular belief, not all cops were as invested as the cliché, it was nice to see the commitment he had to the case.

Between her briefing and the files, they had stayed a couple of hours before they could barely open their eyes and they took off to sleep a couple of hours.

“I brought coffee. Didn’t know how you guys took it so I brought one of everything.” Betty says, pointing with her thumb at the cups and the rather big mountain of beverage supplies she had brought.

“Oh…” Jones looks surprised, glanzing between her and the cups. “That’s really considerate of you. I’m the cliche Agent, take my coffee black.”

“Is that coffee?” Agent Andrews suddenly is bursting through the doors, taking his coat off at the same time, a mess of tangling limbs.

“Yes, but only for those who arrive early.” Agent Jones jokes, making her do a double take. Betty sees his posture is a little bit more relaxed than yesterday but his shoulders are still rigid, posture upright.  “Cooper was kind enough to buy us some.”

“Shut up, Jug.” Andrews says. “Hello Detective Cooper.”

“Jug?” Betty mutter a little to herself, confused for a moment, warming her hands on her own cup. “Hi!”

“Actually it’s Jughead. It’s a stupid nickname.” Agent Jones replies, having heard her. “But it’s slightly less stupider than my real one.” 

“It’s not so bad.” She blurts out, instantly regretting it, blush painting her cheeks lightly. Agent Jones looks at her curiously. “I might have… researched you both. Forsythe isn’t so bad.”

Agent Jones winces at the name and Andrews chuckles next to him. Betty looks down at the table for a second before turning her eyes back to them.

“Don’t say it. Ever.” He tells her, so serious she can’t help but nod in answer. “If you must call me something, call me Jughead.”

“Archie… if you call me Archibald I probably won’t answer, unless you’re my angry mother.” Archie says, amused smirk on his face. Betty is startled by the differences between them and how, despite it, they seem to be in sync and work well together. She could tell from the way they walked and moved around each other, how sometimes Jughead finished Archie’s line of thoughts. It was a little endearing, made her miss having a partner.

“Betty.” She simply states, smiling softly at them. “Are you going to finally tell me what is going on today?” she wonders, changing topics quickly.

“I’m going to repeat myself… this does not leave the room.” Jughead says, looking at her intensely. 

“Of course.” 

“There’s a serial killer on the loose. Susan Verichi’s death fits the MO.” Jughead speaks, and Betty feels like the floor gives up underneath her.

“Excuse me… did you just say a serial killer?” Betty asks, baffled. 

“Yes. We’ve been keeping it under wraps. Well, the FBI has, we’ve been on this case for about two years now.” Archie informs her, taking a seat.

Betty looks at them, mouth a little open and wide eyed. A serial killer. Being kept under wraps. MO matching with Susan Verichi’s body.

  
“The maple syrup.” She whispered, the sudden realization hitting her like a ton of bricks. Her intuition had been right, but she’d never expected something like this.

“And glued off mouth.” Jughead adds, face somber, eyes behind her on the murder board.

“Why the hell is this being kept under wraps?” Betty’s tone is increasingly distressed. “People need to know, you can’t keep something this big from the news!”

She is getting angrier by the second now. The FBI should let people know there’s a killer on the loose, people have the right to be aware and take precautions. If this has been going on for more than two years… how many people has the killer murdered?

“We’re just following orders, Cooper. This hit the news a few years ago but then the FBI decided that keeping it off the media was better.” Jughead tells her. “It didn’t seem to affect the patterns, it didn’t affect anything. We’re taking about one of the most prolific killers since the likes of Ted Bundy. Our body count is above 14 people with their MO… and God knows he probably killed more.”

“This is insane.” Betty tells them. “People have the right to know and take precautions.” She feels like a broken record, repeating over and over.

“The FBI didn’t want a national breakdown… We have close to nothing on this guy. At first it was the hopes that he’d stop, no longer the news’ focus but he continues to kill.” Jughead explains, running a hand through his jet black hair. “There’s no pattern, vague time estimates…”

That makes Betty frown. Part of being a profiler is knowing that every killer had a pattern, even if it was extremely hidden. The FBI not being able to crack it makes her blood run cold, this person has been on the loose for years now and nobody had a damn thing on them? Must be extremely intelligent, knowledgeable on criminalistic and such.

“Hold on, you said ‘he’?” Betty asks, the detail popping in her brain.

“We have these vague bits of information. He’s a male in his late twenties, early thirties. A witness said he had brown hair but we had other sources that point otherwise.” Archie says, counting the facts with his fingers as a frown sets in place on his forehead.

“One of the victims was supposed to be out on a date the night she went missing, that’s mostly how we got our information. That and a neighbor who happened to take out his trash while the killer knocked on her door.” Jughead walks towards the board and turns it around, revealing a whole new  _ murder board _ that included extra information. “This is what we know.”

Betty moves closer to it and starts inspecting the board, her breath caught in her throat. There’s several pictures of bodies with syrup pouring out of their mouths along with crime scenes and newspaper clips. There are several annotations on papers, arrows linking things to each other. She feels overwhelmed for a second before she stills herself and starts gathering all the information.

“You were unable to find any patterns connecting the victims?” Betty asks, looking at the pictures of the victims, at plain sight she can’t really sense a pattern. DIfferent ages, skin, gender.

“No. They’re different each time.” Jughead answers her, coming to her side to stare too at the board. “We once thought there might be this pattern where he murdered two males then one female but he broke it with Jeremiah Davis.” He points out to a white male in one of the pictures. 

“Professions?” Betty asks, pursing her lips together, trying to find something. 

“No apparent pattern either.” Archie answers this time, he sounds resigned. Betty can’t imagine being that long in a case and having nothing to continue on.

“Could I maybe access the victims’ files? A new pair of eyes might find something.” Betty requests, looking at Jughead who is still beside her.

“Sure…” He tells her, moving to reach a laptop on his backpack. “I have all the files here, I’ll give you access to it when we’re at the office. A cell phone rings at that moment and Jughead takes his phone from his back pocket.

“Shit” He mutters, anger shaping his face.

“What?” Archie asks him, leaning forward in his chair.

“The media found out about Susan Verichi’s case, they’re linking it  with the ones in the past. The office just sent me an email. Shit.” Jughead sighs and pulls a little at his hair. Betty briefly wonders if it’s as soft as it looks. “They’re tearing down the FBI because they’re not giving information.”

“Well, to be fair, they’re kinda right…” Betty adds and purses her lips at the glare Jughead gives her.

“The FBI did what it thought it was best.” he replies, narrowing his eyes at her. 

“Another corporation that gets the people wrong. Again, if there’s a serial killer roaming the streets people have the right to know.” Betty says, glaring back at him. She can see Archie on her peripheral vision raising his eyebrows in what she thinks is mild amusement. 

“I already told you, how do you think people would react to the FBI having an unresolved mysterious serial killer for years now? That could lead to a riot… I guess we’re going to find out now.” Jughead’s phone rings now, enunciating a call. He winces when he glances at whoever is calling him. “I need to take this. Start on those files, Cooper.”

 

 

* * *

It takes her two days and a half to go thoroughly through all the files. In the meantime Jughead and Archie visit the crime scene again and tell Susan Verichi’s daughter about the new development. Betty had been slightly grateful she wasn’t the one to break the news but immediately felt guilty after Jughead had appeared looking extremely exhausted afterwards and slightly absent.

Betty understands. There are days when you simply cannot hold it together like you’re used to. Some days the illusion cracks and it simply makes your soul wither a little.  The coffee tastes sour, the bed feels colder and motivation seems non-existent. Betty understands perfectly the way Jughead’s eyes had seemed hollow for a few minutes before something intense and dark shined through them as he looked at the murder board. 

A sense of justice comes with the job, a thirst to make everything right that is more often than she’d like stomped all over. Specially if you’re a woman, you’re thrown away and called  _ too enthusiastic, too hysterical.  _ Betty has learned to keep to herself and stick to her job.

She’s on her way to the station, back from lunch hour, waiting for the light to turn green. A car with a few stamps on it’s trunk passes her by and her brain explodes. 

“Holy frak.” She breathes out, eyes wide with the possibilities.

She breaks into a quick jog the last three blocks until she enters the station, not stopping until she crosses the door to the office. Jughead and Archie instantly look up at her sudden entrance, confused looks on their faces. 

“Religion.” She blurts out, struggling to breathe at both her sudden run and the excitement. 

“What? Are you okay?” Jughead asks her, turning to face her. She observes him for a second, stunned at the way his shirt brings out the blue in his eyes.

“Religion. All the victims were religious, believers. They frequented churched on sunday. That could be the pattern.” She explains, pacing a little before planting her hands on the table. Jughead looks at her for a moment, glazed over look, she know’s he’s going over all the information in his head. 

“Larry Williams?” He asks suddenly, but she can tell he’s agitated as they turn towards the murder board.

“He went to church once a month.” Betty answers, knowing what he was asking. Her answer makes his shoulders relax and tense at the same time. She can’t help but feel a little pride over figuring a part of the case.  Jughead turns to look at her with a small smile on his face and what looks like delight in his eyes. 

“Good job, Nancy Drew.” he tells her and she smiles at him, unable to contain the excitement that his words and the situation bring. They were going to crack this. She thinks she can see her thoughts reflected in his eyes.

“Wow, Betty.” Archie speaks for the first time, looking shocked himself. “So we have a religion hater in our hands?” 

“Maybe… looks like it.” Betty says, biting her lips. “That would explain the lack of visible pattern, if it was about something like belief.” 

Someone clears their throat and all three of them look at the source. Sheriff Keller is standing on the doorstep with a somber look on his face. 

“You might wanna follow me.” he says. 

The three of them look at each other with equally confused expressions. Betty grabs her coat and they head off, quickly following Sheriff Keller to the parking lot. 

“Boss, what is going on?” Betty asks him, walking fast to keep up with his long strides. 

“There’s been another body.” He says, face grave. “Lodge is at the scene, said to call you because she thinks there’s something wrong with the mouth again.” 

“Lodge is the ME, right?” Archie asks. 

“Yes, she was with me on the Verichi case.” Betty adds, lead weight settling on her chest at the possibility of another victim from this psycho. 

Fifteen minutes later when they get to the crime scene, the street is a mess. There are at least 15 people bordering the “crime scene” tape, an annoying press person trying but getting nothing out of a cop. 

Betty looks around, her eyes landing on Jughead and she’s quietly shocked at the change of demeanour. His face is closed off, eyes showing an intensity and focus she’s never seen on him before, lips set in a straight line. She remembers the way his eyes were shining not an hour before and something resembling disappointment or sadness creeps up on her. 

They walk in direction to the house, everything looks alright like the first crime scene. Right outside the door, talking to an officer, is a pale looking man with red eyes. 

“Sir, officer…” Jughead starts, stopping in front of the men. “I’m Agent Jones. Is it okay if I ask you some questions?” 

“I was already answering them.” The man mutters vaguely, sighing and looking extremely exhausted. 

“I understand, Sir… What is your name?” He asks, politely. 

“William Monroe. I’m the…” The man struggles, swallowing hard before trying to speak again. “I’m the house owner’s son. I found him.” 

“We’re very sorry for your loss, Mr. Monroe.” Betty adds, pursing her lips. The man’s eyes soften a little and get glassy for a moment as he looks at her before simply nodding. 

“Did you notice anything strange before coming in?” Jughead asks.

“The fact that he didn’t reply when I rang the bell I guess. But he has bad hearing so I didn’t really think anything about it…” William answers. “Well, he had bad hearing…” a tear is quickly wiped away on his cheek. 

“You have a copy of the key?” Betty asks him, softly. 

“Yes. That’s how I got in. When I entered, I found him sitting on the bed, back to the wall.” William passes his hands through his hair in clear desperation. 

“Do you know if he had any plans for today?” 

“No, I was supposed to pick him up. We were going to have a late lunch together.” He explains.

“Okay, thank you for your time, Mr. Monroe. This is my card, call me if you remember anything, please.” Jughead gives the man a white pristine card with his number and name on it before nodding at her to follow him inside the house. 

The house is big, she inspects everything as they walk in the direction of the room. There’s a weird perspective she keeps getting as she imagines the murderer walking around in the same direction they are, looking at the same things yet with such different intents. It makes her feel cold, how a person can be so twisted. 

She’s seen the documentaries, the investigation files and even read a book or two about serial killers but to live the investigation is not something she imagined ever doing. The idea that someone could kill others on a month basis was something that made her blood freeze. 

As a profiler, she sometimes had to put herself in the criminal’s head… try to figure out how they ticked so she could be one step ahead. Betty dreaded putting herself in this murderer’s head, she felt empty each time she spent too long trying to figure him out. 

“Hello, B.” Veronica speaks, taking her off her reverie. 

“Hey, thanks for calling this in.” Betty tells her, the corner of her mouth ticking up for a second before focusing on the scene before her. 

This was… different. The body was clearly posed, carefully sat in the middle of the bed, back against the wall with its fingers intertwined and open eyes staring into nothingness. The others crime scenes had been more natural, this looked simply staged. 

“It seems like he doesn’t care anymore.” Jughead says putting on his gloves. 

“I was thinking the same. This looks completely staged, the others looked like they had truly died from natural causes… maybe it’s because of the press.” Betty says, confused at the change of behaviour. 

“Maybe…” He pondered. “What do you know so far?” He asks Veronica now.

“Well, based on body temperature and stiffness, I’d say he’s been dead between 3 to 5 hours.” Veronica reports. “I called because… well besides this looking strange, I noticed the same stiffness and position of the lips that the last victim had. Thought you guys would wanna check it.” 

“ Yes. Thank you, Dr. Lodge.” Jughead says, nodding in her direction before moving around the crime scene inspecting everything. 

“What’s his deal?” Veronica adds. “And more importantly, what’s his partner’s deal? Is he single?” 

“Veronica!” Betty chastises in a whisper.

“What? Bad timing?” Veronica asks, expression with faux innocence. 

“You’re insane.” Betty whispers, shaking her head. 

“Yeah, well... I laugh so I don’t cry and all that.” Veronica jokes vaguely, smiling softly at her friend. Betty can read the truth behind her words and returns the smile.

“I better work.” Betty tells her, squeezing her arm gently before moving to the side of the bed to inspect the body closer. 

Betty can see the resemblance Veronica pointed out in this person’s body. The lips, however, look more evidently unnaturally closed. She wonders if he did so in a hurry, maybe having heard the bell ring, but William Monroe hadn’t mentioned seeing anyone and as far as she could tell, the house had one entrance. She mentally makes a list to test that theory later. 

It takes her a few minutes, more than she’d like to admit, of staring at the body before recognition hits her. Anger and disappointment filling her expression. 

“Shit…” Betty mutters before calling out. “Agent Jones.” 

Jughead looks up instantly from where he’s talking with an officer, walking towards her after she gestures him to come. “Yes?” he asks, looking down at her. 

“My theory was wrong.” Betty states, hating the words with every fiber of her being. They were back at the beginning. 

“Your theory?” Jughead asks, looking confused for a second before his eyes light up in recognition. “The religion one?” he whispers, leaning closer to her. 

“Yes.” Betty says. “I remember this man. It was a while ago, maybe even years. But I got called in, he was causing disturbances in the street. An old Riverdale church had turned a hundred years, this person calls in to complain about the noise. When I get there this man was yelling very… non religious things at the people celebrating.”

“Are you sure this was him?” Jughead asks, frowning.

“I’d love to be mistaken, but we can check the names and files at the station. I’m pretty sure it was him. Believe me, the last thing he seemed was a believer.” Betty says. 

They stare at the body for a few minutes, Jughead rubs the back of his neck as if willing the tension away. Betty doesn’t even try to wish her own tension away. She knows the sourness in her mouth is gonna stay for longer than a couple of hours. 

“I’m sorry.” Betty says quietly, trying to stop the shame and guilt coursing through her. 

“What? What for?” he asks, tilting his head to the side looking like a confused puppy.

“I was misleading. I profiled him wrong.” She starts, logically she knows it’s not her fault, but the stress of the situation is getting the best of her right now. “I shouldn’t have jumped on the gun, I-”

“Betty, no.” Jughead says softly, making her look up at the sound of her name coming off his lips. “It’s not your fault this psycho seems to be a different kind of crazy. The FBI’s been on this case for years and they haven’t gotten anywhere.  _ We  _ haven’t gotten anywhere. This is not your fault. You were the first profiler to ever come close to a pattern.You’ve been a great asset so far.” He tells her, reaching out and squeezing her arm reassuringly. The warmth from his hand transfers all the way through the layers of clothing onto her skin, calming her. “Okay?” 

Betty nods, offering him a small smile. Jughead simply lets his hand fall from her arm and nods at her. They stay there for a second, staring at each other before he looks away and clears his throat. 

“I have everything I need and they’re about to wrap everything here to move the body. We should get back to the office and wait for the results.” Jughead states, eyes stoic. 

“Okay… lead the way.” She replies.

Betty finds comfort on his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the car, maybe more than she should. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two fic updates in one night? You are indeed seeing right, guys.  
> I'm crazy excited about this fic, hope you enjoy :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Any mistakes are mine.  
> Introducing: Jug's POV. Hope you enjoy.

> _ The voice is getting louder the longer I stay here, I realise. _
> 
> _ The thirst and my so called self-control is something that sometimes slips. The vengeful force inside wanting to snap at even the slightest of immoralities.  _
> 
> _ I need an anchor. Something to tether me by as I plan my next and biggest strike. My latest kill was almost impulsive. Seeing him just walking down the street, smiling to himself had simply been too much.  _
> 
> _ How could he be so ignorant of his own transgressions? How could he not realise his soul was as tainted as they came?  _
> 
> _ I sigh, feeling sorry for their poor souls. I need to lay low for a while and plan everything in detail, nothing can be amiss. Everything needs to be perfect, they can’t escape my sight this time.  _
> 
> _ I can’t let the impersonation of all that’s wrong in this earth roam this place anymore. The quote “Hell is empty, all the devils are here” comes to mind and I nod absently to myself. How right he was.  _
> 
> _ The door opens, taking me out of my thoughts and I smile. The first flicker of happiness I’ve felt in a while ignites in my chest. Eyes I know as well as mine look back at me with surprise in them.  _
> 
> _ “Hello.” _

 

 

Jughead is staring at the ceiling of his hotel room, trying to sleep but failing horribly.

Lately he’s been sleeping poorly, if he managed to catch more than 4-5 hours it was nothing short of a miracle for him. He feels like he’s been jet lagged since he arrived to Riverdale and it makes him groan in frustration, another emotion very close to him for the last almost three years now. 

Archie and him have been officially on the case for three years tomorrow and it doesn’t feel like a victory or something to commemorate at all. If anything, he feels deeply ashamed and perturbed about the fact that they had almost the same amount of information that they had begun with in the first place. 

His chest feels like caving in and he closes his eyes, trying to check himself. Her face appears behind his eyelids and some of the pressure gives in. The way she looked so defeated in the last victim’s house was like looking in a mirror. Jughead had panicked a little internally because, like he had said, she was the greatest asset they had gotten so far. 

Being the first one to bring something useful to the table, he was truly captivated by her. It had been one thing the first time he saw her, long delicate fingers on her temples, rubbing a headache and a set of green eyes that spoke so much. He’d be a fool to deny to himself  that he found her attractive. Long legs, blonde ponytail and sharp brain… Elizabeth Cooper was a force to be reckoned with.

The worst part of it was that she made him forget his surroundings sometimes. He found himself staring at her chewing on her lips as she read some files, cute concentration frown on her forehead when he should’ve been working on his own documents. 

“Ugh.” Jughead groans at the empty room, pushing his face into the pillow. 

He really wishes he could turn off his brain, or will it to pay attention to the important things but whenever he’s alone in his hotel room, he can’t stop himself from thinking about her. Maybe he’s been on the road too long with nothing but Archie to share his thought, maybe he’s finally cracking... maybe it’s just her.

As much as he’d like, he can’t deny the desire to both protect her from the darkness of the case and wanting to have her with him. It’s been too long since he’s been able to see even the smallest glimpse of hope for this case but it seems to follow her, be it with her intellect finding little details or with offering him a smile on a daily basis. 

He finds it strangely ironic… someone with so much brightness caught in such a dark and wicked case as this. Even with her brightness, he’s seen the way her face sets with determination when she’s in a crime scene or staring at the murder board. How she always manages to ask him something new, how her fist clenched that day at the crime scene when she realised she had profiled him wrongly. 

Jughead sighs, willing his mind to stop. He’s bone tired, he just wants to sleep. Grabbing another pillow, he hugs it to himself, ignoring how cold it is,  and turns to his stomach. 

He’s asleep ten minutes later.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey Jug!” Jellybean answers after two rings. 

“Hey JB, how are you?” He asks, feeling a pang of longing. He missed his sister, it’s been a long time since he last saw her.

“Work has been kicking my ass.” She tells him. “But I’m sure it’s nothing compared to yours… where are you?”

“Small town called Riverdale.” Jughead seats more comfortably on the office’s chair. Everybody has gone away for the day. He had had to make Betty go home because she had wanted to stay until later, even if he had catched her head bobbing once or twice.

“Jug…” Jellybean gasps softly. “Are you… are you working on the serial killer case?”

Jughead winces at the question. The media was still chewing the FBI out for not letting the world know about it. He had had a very serious conversation with his boss and some directives that had ultimately decided that taking him off the case was just too much trouble.

“You know I can’t talk about that…” Jughead replies, not wanting his sister to worry.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Damn it, Jug. This is dangerous.” Jellybean curses. He smiles a little at how suddenly she sounds like the older sibling.

“As opposed to my other cases?” Jughead smirks at the phone, a flicker of happiness warming his body.

“Good point.” Jellybean concedes. “I’m still worried about you. A serial killer is something big, and if they haven’t catched him yet...Jug…”

“It’s okay, JB. I’m okay. Archie is with me, we have a new partner.” Jughead tries to soothe her. “We’re handling it.”

“Fine. I trust you. But at the first sign of trouble I’m kidnapping you and putting you in my basement.” JB states, voice a tiny bit amused.

“Don’t make me arrest you, Jelly.” Jughead jokes, smirking.

“Ugh, no. I’d look horrid in orange. So…” Jellybean starts and he frowns at the pause. “New partner, huh?”

“Yes…?” Jughead speaks slowly, a tingle of nervousness coursing through him.

“Is it a female partner?” She presses.

“Yeah.” Jughead confirms, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”

“You just had this soft tone when you said  _ new partner _ .” she says the last two words with a dreamy sigh, making him scoff.

“I did not say it like that.” He denies. “Betty is a colleague from Riverdale.”

“Oh.. Betty. Is she?” Jellybean teases him, tone amused. 

“JB, shut up.”

“Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll have to text Archie and get all the information from him.” She states.

“And I’ll tell him about the stupid crush you used to have for him.” Jughead counterattacks, smug tone.

“You little…” Jellybean cuts herself off. “Wait a second…” He hears a door opening and closing with some words from JB followed by the clear sound of a quick kiss.

“Is that Will? Say hi from me.” Jughead says. He had learned to like his sister’s boyfriend. He made her happy than he’d seen her in a long while and that was a lot of points for Jughead.

“He says hi back. Listen, we have reservations, do you mind if I call you tomorrow?” Jellybean sounds apologetic and guilty.

“Sure JB, go have fun. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Jughead’s voice goes tender, not really wanting to end the call.

“Looking forward to it. Take care of yourself, Jughead, or I’ll kill you myself.” JB says, making them both chuckle. “Love you, J.”

“Love you too, Jelly.” He hangs up and the silence seems louder than before.

Getting up from his chair, he turns his torso to the side, cracking the bones on his back, finding a little relief on the back pain he’s been harbouring for a couple weeks now. He groans, making a mental reminder to buy some ibuprofen on his way to the hotel.

He quickly gathers his jacket and backpack, heading off for the day feeling a little lighter after speaking to his sister.

Jughead is glad they still talk to each other after all they’ve gone through. With an absent mother and a father that has been sober for the last 9 years, saying they had a hard upbringing was an understatement.

He spent his teenage years taking care of his little sister, and while he didn’t particularly hate it, he had missed on the opportunity of being a normal teenager. Jughead scoffs at that particular notion. Jughead Jones as a teenager was a bit of a weirdo, always with the same beanie in his head  _ (which he had left to his sister when he headed to Quantico. She still had it.) _ , suspenders and a perpetual brooding face. 

Nothing much had changed on the brooding face aspect, is he was being honest. But the habit of letting his expression relax is not something he had conquered quite yet. He remembers Betty a few days ago, when they had interviewed William Monroe and a couple of neighbors, gesturing at him to  _ relax his face.  _ He had scoffed and attempted to sooth his frown, the smile he had gotten in reward had made everything worth it. 

He tightens the coat over his body, being colder than he thought it would be and takes his keys out of his pocket, unlocking his car. 

“Holy shit.” someone curses loudly and he turns quickly in their direction, finding Archie and the Medical Examiner, Veronica Lodge in a deep embrace, leaning over the nearby car. 

“Uh…” Jughead stares, shocked, at them. He was so deep inside his mind he hadn’t even saw them.

“Hey buddy, we didn’t see you there.” Archie says, stepping back and straightening his clothes as Veronica does the same. 

“Likewise…” Jughead says, shaking the surprise off. “Umm… I’ll head back to the hotel…”

“Okay.” Archie says. “I’ll see you there.”  _ Yeah, not likely.  _ Jughead thinks. 

“Bye, Agent Jones.” Veronica says, smiling like nothing happened at him.

“Jughead.” He finds himself telling her. “You can call me Jughead… okay, bye.”

He gets into the car and drives off. Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, he doesn’t get why he would ever be shocked. Archie had somewhat of a reputation in the office and having been on many cases with him, he can agree. Not that there was anything bad with it. 

It’s a couple of hours later when Jughead is once more lying in bed and trying to sleep when someone knocks softly on his door. He sighs and gets up, finding Archie on the other side with a small smile.

“Hey Jug…” He greets, stepping inside. 

“Hello Womanizer.” He teases, letting himself fall on the couch. 

“Ha-ha, funny.” Archie tells him, setting on the other end. “I wanted to check everything was alright.” 

“Archie… I don’t own your life. You’re my partner, we take care of each other. I don’t really care where you put your dick.” He tells him. “I should’ve known she was your type.” 

“Veronica is amazing… She helps me disconnect, you know?” Archie says, dreamy look in his eyes. 

“Yeah, I understand.”He replies, even though he doesn’t really. Thoughts of Betty appear on his head but he quickly ignores them. “It’s all okay, man. Just… don’t fuck it up, okay? I think we’re going to stay here for a while. I don’t need more tension.” 

“No worries, we’re just having fun and taking off the edge.” Archie tells him. Jughead feels a little pang of longing, having fun and not this huge amount of stress sounds like nirvana right now. “You know… Veronica mentioned Betty is single.”

“Good for her?” Jughead feigns disinterest but his heartbeat just skipped a bit. 

“Don’t play coy, I can tell you like her.” Archie says and his honest tone throws Jughead off for a seconds. 

“Shut up, Andrews. I barely  _ know  _ her.” He says, getting up from his spot on the couch. 

“Ah, you didn’t deny you like her.” Archie says, getting up as well. Jughead starts to push him towards the door. “You’re not getting rid of this so easily, pal.”

“I don’t like her. And even if I did, we’re co-workers, man.” Jughead explains, voicing one of his biggest mantras for the last few weeks. 

“True, but there’s no rule against it.” Archie states. “Look, all I’m saying is… you don’t have to go through this all alone.”  Jughead opens the door and Archie steps into the hallway, looking at him with pursed lips and a careful expression. 

“I know. That’s why I have you.” Jughead tells him, and interrupts his friend when he open his mouth to reply. “Goodbye Arch”

With that, Jughead closes the door on his friend’s face, wishing the image of her had stayed in the hallway as well.

 

* * *

  
  


Jughead is drinking his coffee quietly as he stares at the murder board even if he knows the thing like the palm of his hand. He feels a little numb today, the frustrations are high and you can feel the tension in the air. Archie has gone off on a walk, although Jughead suspects that  _ walk  _ includes a particular ME.

The sudden sound of paper being ripped takes Jughead out of his musings. Betty is ripping a paper in halves before she makes a ball out of it and tosses it on the trash can, all the while having a sour expression, her bottom lip poking out ever so slightly. It’s the way her hands curl on themselves that makes him stop thinking how adorably frustrated she looks. The expression on her face is one he has to face every time there’s a mirror in front of him.

“You okay?” He asks softly, turning in his place to face her more. She looks up sharply, as if she had forgotten he was there and nods.

“I’m just… frustrated. I’ve never been this frustrated with a case before.” Betty says, rubbing her neck. “Obviously, I’ve never worked in anything this big.”

“I know the feeling, I’ve been frustrated for the past three years.” He jokes lightly, making his way to her. “It’s okay to be frustrated, the only thing to do is keep going.” He places his coffee on the table.

“Of course. I don’t know how you are doing it, to be honest. This amount of pressure and frustration is a lot and believe me when I say I’ve been through my share of pressure in my life, but this is a whole new level.” Betty comments, eyes wide as she looks down at her papers. “There’s no way of fixing it. It’s like he’s the next Jack the ripper, absurd. Is it terrible of me to ask for a text-book psycho I can profile and catch?”

“Hey…” He says softly, his hands find place on her shoulders. “We’re going to catch this guy, if it’s the last thing I do.” Jughead starts massaging her stiff muscles and she sighs, relaxing into his touch. Jughead can barely smell her sweet perfume. “He’s bound to make a mistake. The last crime scene showed something is going on with him. We’ll find him, Betty.”

“Yeah… we will.” Betty puts a hand over his on her shoulder and just like that he’s aware of what he’s doing. He stills his movements, the fingers touching him a source of warmth and electricity.

Jughead lightly curses himself. Since the last crime, when he touched her for the first time, he had been containing himself to reach over to her. The lack of sleep must be catching up to him if he hadn’t realised what he was doing until he felt her hand on his. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, her hand is placed lightly over his left one, thumb absently running over his knuckles from time to time.

He lets himself be this close to her for a few moments more, enjoying the warmth she exudes. Closing his eyes, he realises just how much he’s been craving contact with another person, his heart feels like it’s been squeezed inside his chest and he has to refrain from getting closer to Betty.

After a few seconds more, he manages to clear his throat and step away. His hands clenching and unclenching over the phantom sensation of her. Jughead vaguely remembers making fun of the dude in that Pride and prejudice movie Jellybean made him saw for pinning so hard.  _ How ironic,  _ he thinks.

Betty looks back at him with a small smile before grabbing her pen, focusing again on her papers, totally unaware of Jughead’s inner turmoil.  He needs to get a hold of himself, and quickly.

“I’m going to get some food, would you like me to bring you something?” He asks, needing to get some air. A walk to Pop’s will do him good. 

“You going to Pop’s?” She asks, biting her bottom lip with a new sparkle in her eyes.

“Yes.” He replies, turning around to take his jacket off the chair he had put it on.

“Could you bring me a burger and a strawberry milkshake? I’m going to need all the sugar I can get to go through this files.” She tells him, nodding towards the amount of paperwork in front of her.

“Sure, I’ll be right back.” He states, smiling lightly at her before he’s out the door.

He takes a deep breath once he’s outside the station, his coat smells vaguely of her perfume and the looks upwards to the sky, sighing.

He’s in deep shit and a part of him doesn’t even care. 


	4. Chapter 4

 

> _“Stupid gloves,” I mutter to myself, stretching the new gloves on with difficulty. They’re a size too small and I feel the urge to strangle the clumsy vendor that sold them to me when I had been specific about the size._
> 
> _It’s one of my pet peeves, how the latex is painful against my skin and every move feels restricted. Well, I’ll have to make do while being extremely careful they don’t tear apart._
> 
> _I open my backpack, taking the little vial with syrup on it and handle it carefully. One does not handle sin lightly. I briefly wonder how people can consume it so blatantly when it’s so clearly the evil equivalent of  taking the sacramental bread._
> 
> _Ignorance is bliss, I suppose. That’s why people sin so much these days, how could they not? If they’re constantly exposed to it and molded by the darkness. He once too was in the eye of the storm, but no more._
> 
> _Opening the corpse's mouth, I tilt the vial enough for it to slowly pour down onto the body’s mouth and throat. I stay there, cleansing and praying that their soul departs from this place safely, that they’re forgiven._
> 
> _Once I’m content with the amount I close it, leaving it at the side temporally so I can prevent the syrup from spilling over the body’s mouth. Quickly grabbing the glue, I place it gently on the inner side of the lips before pressing it until I’m sure they’ll stick together._
> 
> _It’s later that I stay still, looking at my masterpiece. The body is carefully posed, resting on their back and tucked in as if they had been sleeping all along. I grab one of the hands and move it merely a couple of inches from the position, nodding to myself at the improvement._
> 
> _Art was hidden in the weirdest places._
> 
>  

Betty moves her hips along to the soft sound of the music, getting the cookies out of the oven. It’s been a long week and she finally has a free night, emphasis on night because it’s now almost 8 pm and she is stress-baking.

She figures she deserves it. Tomorrow marks the fourth month they’ve been doing this and they remain as clueless as the first time Jughead and Archie had arrived. The only thing that moved forward in this four months was Betty’s constantly growing infatuation with Jughead.

Denying it was futile, she had tried that for a time and it did her no good. Now she’s moving on to accepting the fact that every time he’s close to her, her heart wants to burst out of her chest. However bad she has it, it does nothing to eclipse the amount of frustration and stress all three of them have been under.

Betty can see it in her mirror each morning, the way the circles under her eyes are darker, how the sweaters hang a little bigger on her… In the midst of all this, Betty had had a revelation and decided that denying herself the pleasure of Jughead’s company was not something she wanted to add to her plate.

Not that she’d ever act on it. Not only were they co-workers in a very sensitive case, she was sure Jughead didn’t see her like that at all, no matter what Veronica implied or how Betty looking at her friend hanging out with Archie made a spark of jealousy flare up in her chest. Not because of the man himself, but because as of late she had been clinging to every small touch with the dark haired and gloomy agent, every brush of their fingers as he handed her some papers, the way his hand seemed to find its way to her lower back as they walked side by side and more importantly… she had been craving more.

Betty sighs, willing the thoughts away, not wanting to get hung up thinking about anything work related on her free night. Carefully placing the cookies on a plate, she grabs one and moans. She really outdid herself this time, they’re the perfect amount of crunchy yet soft.

She’s taking out of her peace by the loud ringing of her phone. Betty leaves the unfinished cookie on the table and walks quickly to her phone, frowning when she sees who’s calling her.

“Jughead?” she asks, unsure and weirded out that he had popped out of nowhere when she’d been thinking about him seconds ago.

“Betts, I have bad news,” he says, serious despite his use of her newly found nickname. “There’s been another body.” Betty sighs at the news, rubbing her temples. “They’re telling me this one is different, though.”

“Different? How?” she asks, going to her room and picking up clothes to wear. Betty leaves the phone on speaker as she gets dressed.

“I don’t have details yet, I’m on my way there. Want me to pick you up?” Jughead asks. “I have coffee.”

“Well, if you have coffee then yes,” she teases lightly. “Do you have my address?”

“Yeah, I’m a couple of blocks away. See you.”

Betty finishes getting dressed quickly and is immensely grateful she left her bag just the way it was instead of cleaning it like she meant to. She’d be running from side to side trying to get everything she needed. On a whim, she grabs a little bag and puts the now cooled cookies on it before making her way out of her apartment.

Jughead’s slick black car is waiting for her already when she gets out the building, burying her nose on her scarf she makes way quickly and opens the front passenger door.

He looks tired, exhausted even, that’s the first thing she notices along how his hair is a little chaotic, strands pointing in different directions. The other thing she notices is the soft smile that greets her.

“Hey, here’s your coffee.” Jughead passes her a cup with Pop’s logo on it before he starts the car and begins to drive.

“Thank you for the coffee. I brought cookies, baked them myself.” She hands him the bag, to which he instantly reaches and pulls one. Jughead groans as he eats and Betty can feel a slight blush cover her cheeks at the sound. _Great, now I’m blushing like I’m twelve._

“Betty, these are incredibly good. Forget Detective, you should become a baker,” he compliments her, quickly grabbing another cookie once he’s finished with the first one.

“Thank you, Jug.” Betty chuckles at his enthusiasm and is gifted another small smile before he looks back to the road.

The coffee is just how she likes it and relishes on the energy that it gives her to keep on going. Jughead’s cup lays between them on the cup holder of the car, probably having been emptied before he picked her up.

“Who called you?” Betty asks, now realising it might be a little weird that they hadn’t call her first.

“Hmm?” he says, frowning in confusion for a second. “Oh, Archie. He’s with Veronica when they called her, the Sheriff was about to call you but as Archie was with her…”

“Oh,” she replies, intrusive thoughts of her previous reverie appearing again. Betty dismissed them as quickly as they come, getting into the cop mindset as they park in front of a house.

Two police cars are parked on the street and the crime scene tape is already set in place while people come in and out of the house. Betty looks around for a second before realising they’re in the south side. She frowns, the victims so far had been people slightly known in the Riverdale community. Not overall famous, but people that had significance in their time, the new victim didn’t ring any bells in her head.

“Let’s see what happened,” Jughead suggests beside her, setting aside so she could enter the household first.

As they walk further into the small residence, Betty’s eyes widen. The place is not in the best shape, there’s blood on the floor in the living room and some items are on the floor. She turns to look at Jughead, who’s looking as perplexed as she is. Wordlessly, they move forward where the body is supposed to be.

Veronica is taking notes beside the bed while Archie is nowhere to be seen. The most shocking part, obviously, the part that makes both Jughead and Betty remain frozen for a few seconds is the body.

The victim is not only naked, but thrown carelessly on the bed as syrup falls from its lips, soaking the mattress and sheets. Betty is rendered speechless, _what the hell had happened here?_

“He fucked up,” Jughead whispers next to her. “I can’t believe it, he finally fucked up.”

There’s a small flicker of hope she had stored for the rainy days, for those days when everything seemed so heavy. That flicker had carried her through some really rough days in this investigations where Betty would find herself staring through the window, feeling like nothing could be done.

That spark, that flicker is now on fire. It’s burning her insides before she can’t get a hold of herself or question how weird it is that she’s just so incredibly happy over this circumstances. Betty gets a restrains herself before she can smile. Looking over at Jughead she can see the same sparkle in his eyes, how he suddenly looks more alive and not like the tired zombie he was minutes ago.

“Care to brief me?” he says to an officer close to them, who instantly gets closer.

“Yes, Sir,” he starts. “We got a call about an hour ago from the neighbors complaining over disturbances and loud noises in the house, then someone reported screaming and glass breaking. When we got here the door was ajar and an unconscious male was on the floor, bleeding badly. He’s on the hospital now, but we found the body minutes later.”

Jughead and Betty nod along to the story as the cop speaks, eagerly clinging to every detail.

“What’s the name of the deceased and the injured?” Betty asks, stepping a bit forward.

“Deceased is Christopher Hunnam, 60 years old, widowed. Injured is his son, Jackson. We were unable to talk to him due to his state, he’s is being treated as we speak. Seemed to be out cold.”

“Did Jackson live here?” She presses further, million of thoughts roaming through her brain.

“Uhm… This is just my personal observation but I don’t think so, there’s no personal belongings and we found a suitcase on the entrance with clothes on it.”

“Maybe he interrupted him?” Jughead says, voicing her own thoughts. It doesn’t startle her anymore, they usually were at the same wavelength.

“Son stops by sooner than expected or is a complete surprise, interrupts him mid ritual and he has to knock him out cold to escape.” She follows his idea, facing him fully and biting her bottom lip in deep thought. “It’s possible.”

“Ronnie, has J- Oh, hey guys.” Archie appears on the doorstep, about to take off his gloves. “I was about to ask about you, when did you arrive?”

“Five minutes ago,” Betty replies, walking towards him. “What did we miss?”

“Follow me,”  Archie tells them, getting out of the room and making his way to what seems like the back garden. “Look at this.”

There’s marks on the wall of white powder from the crew gathering prints, it only makes the splash of blood contrast more violently on the wall. Betty is simply fascinated by the number of mistakes he has made. The splash of blood is not a plash, but more of a “someone rushed out running with blood in their hands and touches the way”. Sadly, there’s no apparent fingerprints, but she doesn’t lose hope that maybe the team will be able to find some.

“I can’t believe this. He’s never been this sloppy,” Betty whispers. She’s been so frustrated about this case that she’s freaking dreamed of him making mistakes and gifting them clues out of the blue.

“He’s never made a mistake, period. I think he might’ve been in the middle of his… thing when the son came in,” Archie says, eyes still on the wall.

“We were just talking about that. It seems like the most likely option,” Jughead states, scratching the nape of his neck in thought. “What do we know about this dude?”

“Not much, the only thing we know for sure is that he was part of a biker gang,” Archie explains, nodding in direction to the house, silently guiding them back in the house.

“The Serpents. They’ve been here forever, they’re not that bad,” Betty starts and they both frown curiously at her. “It’s mostly the reputation they have than the actions, they’ve cleaned up their act and started making less of a wreck since I was a teenager.”

“I sense a story there,” Jughead mutters, looking at her briefly.

“Not really,” Betty says. “And you have no proof.”  Jughead scoffs, the corners of his lips ticking up.

They stay at the crime scene for a little while more, going over and over, guiding the crew to take all they need as evidence. Millions of photos are taken, and the evidence is carefully gathered. Betty takes it as her job to be firm and not let anything damage the integrity of the crime scene, stopping every person from getting in without the correspondent gear and keeping a watchful eye on anyone working.

It might’ve been a bit too much, seeing some of her co-workers subtly roll her eyes at her or huffed a breath when she hovered over them. It’s not that she doesn’t trust them, but it feels like playing with fire. This might be the only chance they have at getting any type of new information about the killer. Jughead and her had already began talking about releasing a statement and opening a police line to see if there were any witnesses besides the emergency callers.

The excitement and rush quickly fills her heart but she reels it back in, wary of celebrating before it’s due. _Please, please, please let there be solid evidence,_ she begs at whatever deity she can think of.

“Betty…” Jughead calls her and she turns, he’s halfway through the doorstep looking at her expectantly. “We’re headed to the hospital, looks like the victim is awake. You coming?”

“Sure!” she answers quickly walking out of the house with him.

The chaos outside has subsided a little, the people getting bored of waiting for hours to see what’s happening. Betty is grateful as she moves freely to Jughead’s car, needing one of the cookies she’d baked.

“You… have you caught him yet?” Someone is gripping her arm tightly and she turns in surprise, not having heard anyone come close to her. It’s an old man with a slightly crazed face. The little hair he has is in chaos, pointing in different directions. “Have you?”

“I’m sorry, sir. This is an ongoing investigation.” She tries to appease him, gently trying to get his hand out of her arm but his grip is tight as he moves a step closer to her. Betty can see the craziness in his eyes and it makes her purse her lips.

“You used to go everywhere with him. What happened? The red angel of death, fallen from the skies himself let you go without a scratch?” He asks, looking her all over and she frowns in confusion at his words. _Red angel of death? He’s talking about Satan… oh boy._

“Robert!” someone screams from behind them, quite possibly calling the man still holding onto her.

“What is happening here?” Jughead appears close to them, frowning at her. Betty shakes her head slightly, the man might be insane but someone’s coming to get him and he’s not _actually_ hurting her.

“I’m glad you’re in much better company now, girlie,” the man says, eyeing Jughead up and down. Her co-worker stands a little straighter under the gaze and she has the impulse to roll her eyes. _Men._ “Not everyone is as lucky as you, angel. You might’ve switched sides, but you once rolled in the sheets of the devil… that’s not a stain you can wash away, hell slut.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Jughead says, practically ripping the man’s arm from hers as she looks at them in astonishment, completely confused.

“Don’t hurt him, please, he’s sick.” A middle aged woman runs up to them, grabbing the man by his arms and pulling him away from Jughead, who’s frowning coldly at them.

“You should keep an eye on him, he just insulted an officer of the law,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest, making himself look serious and menacing.

“It’s okay, Jughead,” Betty says, side-eyeing him.

“I’m sorry, I looked away one second and then he wasn’t on his chair. We’ll just go home. Sorry,” The woman apologizes, turning away and walking slowly in direction to a house.

“You okay, Betts?” Jughead asks her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. He looks concerned, the edge of anger vanishing from his eyes.

“I’m okay, Juggie. This is not my first rodeo or my first time being called something mean,” she says, squeezing his hand on her shoulder before finally heading to the car. “I am a female cop after all.”

 

* * *

 

Two days later finds them sitting in the office, a new black cloud forming above their heads, placing itself next to the congregation of bad luck they seem to be having.

Betty can hear the witness phone ring on the other side of the wall and she closes her eyes, rubbing her temples, the now almost permanent headache not backing off an inch. In just two days, they’d had countless calls from people saying they had seen everything, others saying they had just seen a dark figure getting out of the house. Five new sketches, all different, pinned to the murder board.

Several people had come and gave statements, described different people and situations. They were going slightly crazy with all the new information that Betty knew would only lead nowhere. Nothing matched so far and they were still getting calls. Archie said they’d fade off in a couple of days, the novelty of the case would pass.

A case file is dropped in the middle of the table, making her and Archie jump on their seats. Betty looks up and finds an angry looking Jughead. No, not angry… _furious._ His face seems to create its own shadows, his lips are firmly set and pursed together into a straight line, his hair is in the state of disarray that speaks of someone messing up then trying to salvage it pushing it all back from his face.

“I’m going to get some air,” he says, voice grave, and walks out of the room without waiting for an answer.   

“What the hell?” Archie mutters, grabbing the files.

“What’s going on with him?” Betty asks, frowning at the direction he left before looking back at Archie whose face is slowly turning into a lighter version of his partners.

“Jesus…” he mumbles to himself. She can see him closing his eyes and handing her the case files.

_No fingerprints or solid evidence were found on the materials gathered at the crime scene. The blood on the outside wall belonged to the hospitalized victim, Jackson Hunnam, possibly placed there after the attack took place. All blood samples gathered belong to the victims._

Shit.

The sour mood she had turns into a simmering rage in the middle of her stomach. This was ridiculous. There was no way someone was this… _lucky._ She tries to think of another adjective, one without the positive tint to it but she comes up empty. The murdered had been interrupted in the middle of his ritual and still managed not to leave a single piece of evidence that linked him to it.

Betty has never, in her years as a detective or her true crime “fan” stages, seen something like this. Her mind is exploding in her skull. _What if he has an inside person? We know he has to have a genious level of IQ but… this is just too much. What if it’s more than one person?_

**_What if it’s more than one person?_ **

The thought of it makes her shiver but she has to accept the fact that it’s completely possible that it’s more than one person making sure nothing was out of place and no evidence was left. She reads the whole file, drinking in every word, getting herself lost in the sentences and the numb sense of dread and rage that extends all the way to her fingertips.

When she resurges from her deep focus, Archie is staring out of the window and an hour and a half has passed. Betty closes the files, pushing them aside and rubbing her eyes. It takes her a few seconds to actually realise an hour and a half has passed and Jughead isn’t back yet.

“Where’s Jughead?” She asks softly, somehow speaking aloud seems like something she shouldn’t do. Archie looks back at her, stoic.

“I don’t know,” he states as quiet as her. They look at each other for a second, silently accepting the elephant in the room. It sucks, they should move on. “I’m… um, I’ll go search for Veronica.”

“Okay,” Betty replies, nodding as he moves to gather his stuff. Maybe she should go home too but the prospect of a cold apartment is not appealing to her right now. The case will follow her there too, it follows her everywhere. A personal ghost she carries.

“Betty?” Archie’s voice brings her back from her reverie. His hand is on the doorknob and his coat on his arm. “I’d look at the shooting range first, he usually likes to let off some steam there,” he says then promptly goes away.

She looks at the spot Archie just vacated, wondering if her thoughts somewhat filtered to her expressions. Betty tries to not over think the way Archie looked at her while telling her about the range, almost as if he knew something. Dwelling on that only gave her anxiety and her mind was already occupied with worry over one broody FBI agent. From Archie’s words, this seems like something he does but in these four months, he’s never shown anything but perseverance and control.

Betty gathers her coat and purse before heading to the shooting range. Thankfully, the place is near the station. Near enough that she’s there ten minutes later after power walking her way through the streets. The place is pretty much deserted, but it’s not surprising because it’s only an hour before it closes on a friday.

“Hey, Trev. How are you?” Betty greets the owner of the place, who is looking bored behind the desk.

“Hey, Cooper!” he greets back, smiling softly at her. “How have you been?”

“Good, thank you.You?”

“I’m good, tired. I wanted to close early, it’s usually empty this time on a friday but there’s a fed that’s been there for a long time now,” he states, raising his eyebrows in annoyed way. “You wanted to go in?” Betty breathes in relief at knowing he’s here.  

“No, actually I’m looking for that crazy fed who has locked himself up on the range. Can I still enter?” she asks politely, not wanting to annoy him further.

“Sure, see if you can get him out of there,” he mutters, waving her in and looking back at the tv show he had been seeing.

Betty gathers the equipment and enters the shooting range, somewhat nervous now… of what, she’s not sure, she didn’t even know she still had mental strength to be nervous. Shot after shot is being fired without hesitance and she sees Jughead at the very end of the small range.

He’s wearing a black undershirt, his dressshirt being discarded on the bench at the back wall next to his jacket. If she wasn’t so worried about him she’d probably be drooling about the way his biceps look while holding his stance on the recoil. His posture is textbook; perfect if not a little too tense and he seems to not have noticed her at all as he keeps shooting bullet after bullet.

By the time he empties the magazine, Jughead doesn’t seem to relax one bit. In fact, he takes off his safety glasses and noise-cancelling headphones and tosses them on the table before him angrily. He leans on it with his hands, head hanging low in a defeat Betty knows well.

Her heart clenches inside her chest at seeing this side of him.

“You better not break anything or Trev will be really mad at me,” she says, announcing herself to him. Jughead’s head whips in her direction and the sight freezes her. His eyes have never looked so hollow.

“Hey, Cooper,” he says, stoic and standing up as if nothing had happened in the world. Jughead barely looks at her before reaching for another magazine, loading the gun and putting his gear back on.

  
“Jughead…” She calls but she’s cut off by him firing again and again. Betty purses her lips in worry, he could be hotheaded and stubborn but this is a new level of closed off for him. Jughead finishes his bullets quickly. “Juggie…” she tries again.

His resolve to not listen to her seems to waver for a second before he’s loading the magazine again. Betty sighs in frustration and she takes her headphones off, dropping them on the table in front of him deliberately.

“Jughead,” she says softly as if approaching a wild animal.

“Cooper, put on the headphones,” he raises the gun but stays that way, not pulling the trigger.

“Juggie…” she repeats, taking the final step so she’s beside him. Jughead’s jaw clenches, a muscle popping up in tension. He has himself so tightly woven, she’s afraid of what will happen when he relaxes.  “Stop.”

Just like that, part of the fight seems to drain out of him as he places the gun on the table, carefully putting the safety on and taking the magazine out. They stand like that in silence for a few seconds while Jughead calms down his breathing, looking down at the floor. Betty gently moves to stand in front of him, back to the targets and the table.

The look in his eyes and the sadness in his features  makes her want to wrap him in a bubble and fix all his problems. It’s a weird impulse that Betty swallows down instantly.

“You okay?” she asks, but in reality she’s saying _I was worried about you._ Jughead scoffs, connecting their eyes for a second before looking back at the ground. He breathes for a few moments more, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I’m tired.” His voice is hoarse with emotion and she knows he’s not talking only about sleep. She knows because she feels it too. “I’m really tired, Betts.”

“I know.” Betty reaches up, everything be damned, and cups his cheek with her hand. She feels Jughead tense, meeting her eyes finally, before he melts into her touch, leaning slightly into her hand. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he states, matter of factly. “I’m sorry I disappeared, It all turned out to be too much,” he sighs as she rubs his cheek with her thumb, comforting him.

“I’m still sorry. For both you, Archie and me…” she starts. “We thought this might actually be it, we got our hopes up and it sucks that we got nothing but we can’t give up.”

“I want to… so bad,” he says, she thinks his eyes shine with tears and it wrecks her a little. “I’ve been in this case for almost three years and it’s been eating at me like a disease. I’ve never been more frustrated in my whole life. They assigned us after the main detective retired, nobody wants this case pending over their heads.”

“Jug…”

“When we got here I was so confused. What the hell is this psycho doing in a small town like this one?” He interrupts her, looking at the targets behind her back. “Then you appeared and I thought… this girl is going to help us crack it, there’s hope yet. But I think I put an unfair amount of responsibility and faith in you and for that I’m sorry Betty.  You’re an amazing asset and partner… it’s just… the moment I thought we had it, it went down the drain and I just couldn’t handle it at all. I’m _so_ tired.”

Betty hugs him hard, crushing him to her chest with her arms around his neck. Jughead takes a second but he hugs her back equally as hard, pressing his face in her hair. Betty feels as if some void inside herself becomes smaller, the comfort his arms bring a soothing balm that calms her anxiety and stress over the case.

Right here, right now… the only thing in the world that matters is Jughead Jones hugging Betty Cooper.

They hug for a few minutes until it starts to get awkward, the need for comfort allowing them to ignore the reality of it for a little longer than usual. When they part though, her hand stays on his shoulder and his on her waist. Jughead looks less tense and it brings the smallest of smiles to her face.

“We’re going to catch him. Even if we have to wait years, we’ll go through this… together,” Betty states, using the hand on his shoulder to shake him a little. “Okay?”

“Yes,” he replies, soft smile on his face.

“Now… before Trev kicks us out, what do you think about a milkshake and a burger from Pop’s?” she asks, taking a step back and making herself busy by gathering her gear so she won’t reach for him more than she already has.

“I think it’s the best idea you’ve ever had,” he tells her, grabbing his stuff too. “Lead the way, Cooper.”

No one is there to comment the way they walk side by side, shoulders touching all the way to the Pop’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the games begin...  
> Hope you enjoy.


	5. Chapter 5

> _ I sit back in the confessionary, thankful for this quiet time to pour my soul out. _
> 
> _ Truth is… I’ve been feeling troubled lately. More so than usual, that is, and it scares me. After all the stuff I’ve been through, one would figure I’d get a break but the voices won’t stop shouting inside my head. _
> 
> _ I no longer differentiate mine from the outsiders. _
> 
> _ In this life I lead, there’s no thrill. No passion, no anything for me anymore. Just the weight of guilt over my shoulders and the constant headaches that I assume are my punishment for my past sins. _
> 
> _ I hear the little door slide open and the barely distinguishable silhouette of a person behind it. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…” I start, the words sounding hollow in my ears.  _
> 
> _ “Tell me your sins, boy.” The person says, urging me to speak. I look around the little space I’m sitting in, the little design of a cross over the opening  making me feel small and insignificant for some reason. _
> 
> _ “Father… why does God punish some people more than others?” I voice the thoughts that have been bugging me for weeks now. If God knew my desire to be better, why did he whisper sweet nothings into my ear every night? What was the message? It felt like listening to a faulty radio, not being able to grasp the words. _
> 
> _ “Well, God works in mysterious ways, son. We can only follow along his plans, knowing he has our best interests in mind.” the priest answers, knowingly. I nod to myself in thought, still hungry for more information.  _
> 
> _ “I’m grateful for what God has given me… but sometimes I wish I could do more.” I say. The voices blending with mine again and shouting loudly over my thoughts, as if I’m in the middle of a battle and they’re the bombs falling nearby, deafening me. _
> 
> _ “What do you wish you could do?” the voice asks _ . I’d kill myself in a heartbeat if that wouldn’t be the final nail in the coffin of my damnation _ , I think to myself. _
> 
> _ “I’m not sure.” I answer instead. _
> 
> _ “I understand the hunger to do more.” The voice states, I hear the soft rustling of clothes moving. “It’s why I became a priest, I wanted to help people follow the voice of God.” _
> 
> _ The roar of voices is louder now, I wince in pain at the sudden throb on my temple.  _ Not now, _ I think. _
> 
> _ “I think…” I start, not sure how to phrase this. “I think I wanna help people repent of their sins. Help them reach forgiveness and peace.” _
> 
> _ “Well, boy, you came to the right place.” _
> 
> _ As I look at the cross again, I finally understand. The voices mellow into a soft buzzing but remain as clear as day to me in their intention, the pieces of the puzzle fall into place and my mind is torn wide open with the possibilities. It’s funny, hilarious even, how sometimes all you need is a small push in the right direction. A new perspective to understand your meaning and your place in this earth. _
> 
> _ “Yeah… I think I did.” I reply to the voice, sealing my fate.  _
> 
> _ I know my mission. _
> 
> _ I’m ready.  _

  
  


Betty tries her best to ignore the blaring alarm going off but there’s no  _ “I don’t want to be an adult today. Could I please pause the world for the moment?” _ button on it just yet so she presses snooze. The bed is warm and she thinks she was dreaming of something good because she woke up happy for three seconds before reality barged in.

Reluctantly, Betty pushes the sheets and gets out of bed. She uses the bathroom and avoids the mirror until she can’t do it anymore. The image reflecting shows a tired blonde girl with circles under her eyes and hollow eyes. She hates that image. She hates the way that this case has taken a toll on her and everybody involved. Today, Betty feels like she has the emotional spectrum of a dry wall. In the depths of her soul she knows she is feeling but it’s like staring at it behind a glass.

Walking into the station feels like walking into a graveyard. The heavy tension pressing on everyone’s shoulders, the way laughter seems to be rarer these days… at least for her. The office seems to be way worse some days, like today, when she feels the incredible urge to take off running and never return. The sigh of Jughead makes her gulp, probably the only spot of light in all the darkness that’s been surrounding the town lately.

Things like this were never supposed to happen in Riverdale. She wasn’t equipped for this, she was completely and overwhelmingly underprepared to handle this type of responsibility. The only thing she’d managed to do was to misguide them, make them lose time. Jughead and Archie should just take her off the team, she was a burden to them. Betty feels the panic and anxiety bubbling up inside her, it’s too much too soon. She closes her eyes for a second, trying to push the feelings down, using the breathing techniques she was taught by her therapist from long ago but it’s to no avail.

It’s the shock of the hot coffee on her right hand exploding from her gripping the cup too hard that takes her out of the endless spiral she seemed to be falling on.

“Shit!” she curses, shaking her hand from the remnants of coffee. Her skin looks pink and sensitive from the hot beverage.

“Hey, are you okay? Did you burn yourself?” Jughead says,walking through the door, obviously having heard the splash of coffee to the ground. Thankfully, her clothes had somehow not been splattered more than a little drop on her suit pants.

“I’m okay.” she replies, handing him the other two cups of coffee she had been holding on her left hand. “What a mess…”

“It’s okay, I’ll call someone to clean it up.” Jughead is looking at her intently, surely trying to read something from her expressions but she just feels the echoes of anxiety in the hollowness that is her heart lately.

“B, are you okay?” Veronica appears out of nowhere, at least it seems like she does as she moves from behind Jughead, clearly being in the same office as the FBI agents. Betty shakes both her hands in dismissal but she winces at the pull of pain from her right one.

“I’ll just go to the bathroom and put some cold water on it.” Betty states, moving to the side, carefully not stepping on the puddle on the floor.

“Let’s go to my office, I’ve got something better than cold water.” Veronica tells her, putting her arm through her left one and guiding her down the hall. “No worries, grumpy, I’ll take good care of her.” her friend directs the words to the frowning agent behind them, just before they turn and he disappears from view. 

Betty thinks of her sudden anxiety attack. She’s no stranger to those but she has to admit she hasn’t had one that surprised her as much as this one did in a long time. Betty sighs to herself, knowing something like this was wound to happen, but did she really had to burn her hand in the process?  _ Thanks universe.  _

She is silent as Veronica patches her hand up, following the movements as she applied a salve and then wrapped her hand in gauze. 

“You okay, B?” Veronica asks after a few minutes in silence. “No lying.” 

“I am as well as I can be.” she replies, sighing again. “This case would drive anyone nuts.” 

“I understand.” Veronica agrees. “I see the way Archie’s shoulders slump when you guys have had a bad day, what I don’t like is not knowing how you are. You’ve been MIA.” Veronica purses her lips as she stares at her friend, and Betty sees not reproach in her eyes but worry. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just so tired. I should be better than this, but sometimes I get home and all I can do is take off my clothes before I fall asleep.” Betty confesses part of the truth, she doesn’t want to include the nights where sleep doesn’t come and she’s left to stare at the ceiling of her room for countless hours before she manages to get some rest. 

“I’m just worried about you. Like you said, this case can drive anyone nuts, I don’t want that for you. You have me to talk to, we can go out and let off some steam.” Veronica’s face flourishes with a small smile at Betty’s pursed lips. “Or we could binge watch some episodes of Friends while we eat ice cream.” 

“That sounds more like my thing.” Betty answers, squeezing her friends hands in hers. “Thank you for patching me up, V.” 

“No need to thank me. I don’t have any desire to see Jugster McBroodypants follow you around and hovering over you like you’re breakable expensive china.” Veronica rolls her eyes at the mental image. 

“He wouldn’t hover like that.” Betty tries, glaring at the M.E, who only raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow at her. 

“He was two seconds away from going all mother hen on you.” 

“We’re partners, that’s what we do. We take care of each other.” Betty explains, somehow feeling like she’s failing quite terribly at it. 

“Romantic partners take care of each other like you to do.” Veronica states, pushing her hair over her shoulder before smirking at the blonde. “You’re injured and I don’t have arguments with people in denial. Go to work, Elizabeth.” 

And off Betty goes, walking back the short distance back to the office. In it, Jughead is sitting staring at the murder board, nervously tapping a pen against the table. He instantly stops as he looks up and down at her, assessing if she was really ok. A small smile appears on her lips, the memory of her conversation with Veronica still fresh in her brain. 

He merely smiles back at her, his posture now calmer and the pen laying forgotten on the table. Betty thinks maybe it isn’t so bad being his partner, and turns back to focus once again. 

“So… where were we?”

 

* * *

 

Betty closes the door to her appartment, smile on her face.

They had settled into a silent routine, Jughead and her. He had started going so much to the shooting range that Trev welcomed him with a smile and called Jughead his “golden client”. At first, Betty had tried to talk to him but she later would decide to let him be, because Jughead after the shooting range was something she kinda guiltily liked. 

Not that she liked seeing him angry and frustrated beyond belief, but the outcome was a way more relaxed Jughead, like part of the tension had fallen away from his shoulders. He would smile at her, sometimes dopely, and they’d make their way to Pop’s after where they’d talk and she’d get to know the man below the FBI badge. Betty decided to let him be because, besides her not being anyone to tell him what to do, he looked calmer. As if he has found something that grounded him, tethered him back to earth. 

Betty couldn’t take that away from Jughead, mostly for him but also because a selfish part of her relished the contagious peace he emanated in those moments. Him being grounded made her feel like the floor underneath her was solid once more and the world spun in its axis again.

She changes into her pajamas and takes off the elastic band making her hair fall to her shoulders, she rubs her skull as the tension already leaking out of her in waves. Betty sighs, going to the kitchen to make herself a tea. While the water is heating, she turns to the wall. It’s full of pictures of her family and friends. There’s one particular picture with Kevin and Veronica that she loves, all three of them laughing with their eyes closed and hands on their bellies that hurt from too much laughter.

Then there’s a picture that never ceases to make her heart skip a beat inside her chest. Polly and her are hugging, grabbing the other tightly against their bodies with huge smiles on their faces. Betty purses her lips as she approaches the photo, dread and longing filling her veins. 

It’s been so many years since Polly had run away to God knows where, never to come back or call home again. Call her little sister again. It was something that Betty had been able to accept only after countless years of therapy and drowning herself in her job. The fact that her sister had disappeared and never contacted her again hurt, she thought they were better than that. She thought that Polly loved her more than vanishing into oblivion, never to talk to her again but apparently she was wrong.

Her feet walk on their own to her bedroom and she opens the box hidden in her wardrobe. She had managed to save Polly’s journals from her mother’s rage. After Polly had disappeared, Alice had gone a little mad for a while, trashing Polly’s bedroom and everything on it. At 16 years old Betty had come home to wreckage, a inconsolable mother and a barely present father. After that she had had to put on the big girl pants and work to keep her family from falling even more apart.

The cover of the journal is an aged pink, spine cracked from use and from Betty reading it over and over. She reads it from time to time, the only memory still somewhat physical and alive of her sister. Betty now realises it’s close to the date she vanished from Riverdale, maybe in the back of her mind she knew and that’s what brought her back to these journals. 

“Oh, Polls.” Betty whispers to herself, setting comfortably on the ground next to the box and ignoring the sound of the boiling water. “I miss you.”

Nevermind how many years have gone by, how betrayed she had felt -still kinda felt- because her sister abandoned her… Betty still missed Polly like crazy. Opening the journal at a random page she reads…

> _ Dear Diary:  _
> 
> _ Today Jason and I made up. It’s been over a week since we fought and after complete radio silence from him, I finally got enough, went to his house and we talked. _
> 
> _ God, I’m so in love with him. I know there’s no one that will make my insides melt like he does. He even was planning on coming up to me and talk things through, he bought me this precious key necklace with a little sappy note. _
> 
> _ We talked about  running away together, he says he has a plan. He’s gathering money right now so we can escape and be free, he says he wants to be my family and I can’t believe how lucky I am. I just hope mom doesn’t catch up to our plan.  _

 

“Don’t worry, she didn’t catch up.” Betty murmurs into nothingness, bitter taste on her mouth. Putting the journal back on the box, she gets up, moves to the kitchen to turn off the boiling water and goes for a glass of wine instead.

She wants to pull a Jughead, go to the shooting range and shoot her heart out until the targets look like a strainer. That sounds like the best idea and she’s probably go if it weren’t almost 10pm. Betty sighs, finishes her glass of wine and tucks herself to bed, grabbing her phone to set the alarm she sets Veronica a text on a whim.

_ Tomorrow. My place. I’ll buy the wine, you bring the ice cream. _

It only takes a few seconds for Veronica to reply.

**It’s a date. Hope your partner doesn’t mind ;)**

_ omg, V… shut up. _

**That’s okay, Betty… this way we can double date with Archie!**

_ Going to sleep now… _

**Dream of brooding agents!**

  
  
  


She does.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would be lying if I denied this being a somewhat filler chapter. I wanted to talk about a few things before it all went to hell.  
> ... And I also noticed a certain lack of VeronicaxBetty friendship on this fic.  
> Hope you guys enjoy :)


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

> _They walk close to each other, laughing and talking, completely unaware that I’m following them. Lost in their little world, I see how the tall dark haired man looks at her, his eyes never leave her the same way hers stay on him all the time._
> 
> _I hate them._
> 
> _I hate their ignorance._
> 
> _I hate that they’re making my mission harder to pursue._
> 
> _I hate this stupid town and it’s stupid history._
> 
> _I hate that the source of sin flows on its trees and ground, unnoticed by all of them._
> 
> _Of course they don’t know. Of course, they’re just making their way to the little diner like they don’t have a care on the world as long as they are together._
> 
> _I hate them._
> 
> _I close my eyes, trying to somehow prevent the impending headache. It’s to no avail, I know what is going to happen tonight, and for once I don’t really care to stop it. Let me kill all these sinners, the world would be a better place._
> 
> _Maybe someday they’ll realise and make me their hero. Their saint._
> 
> _The blonde one laughs particularly loud, throwing her head back and the eyes of the man light up like she has set off fireworks inside of them. I click my tongue, resisting the urge to barf right there._
> 
> _This wasn’t a time for love. This was war. Cold, unforgiving, horrible war between what is good or evil._
> 
> _They were on the wrong side._

  


It’s like somewhat of a bubble has fallen over them.

It’s been almost a month since the last body showed up and they’re once again at a lost. Nothing matches up, the sketches of the witnesses don’t direct to the same man and the evidence points nowhere.

Alas, the bubble.

It feels like time has stopped and they’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s one of the worse sensations she has ever felt, the constant intrigue and uncertainty made her blood freeze then boil until all she could do was stare blankly at the wall, too mentally tired to do anything but that.

Three or four times a week, she’d swing by the the shooting range and pick up Jughead. Even though lately they had spent almost every waking moment together, seeking comfort in the only person who’d understand what they were going through. It didn’t mean they did much… they mostly wandered and talked about nothing in particular, trying to pretend even for a few moments they didn’t have a permanent black cloud following them around.

She had even hang out with Veronica after their talk, binge watching friends episodes and eating ice-cream. It made Betty feel like she was normal again, as if the case was something that changed her directly instead of just a work thing.

From the beginning, it never felt like a “ _work thing”._ She had always been intense with her work and life, always very correct and structured. She liked it that way, it made her organized and productive. Risks were calculated even if they were a bit impulsive… Veronica used to mock her ways but it had worked for almost 30 years of life, she wasn’t going to change them just because people told her she needed to be more “spontaneous”. What was wrong with reliability?

Reliability helped her achieve her position before anyone else at her age, reliability was part of her character and why people trusted her… but reliability wasn’t helping in this case. Nothing seemed to help with this case. Throughout the months Betty had tried different approaches of the profiling technique, tried different perspectives but she always came up empty and feeling so damn useless. That’s where Jughead would appear, with a gentle smile and a hand on her shoulder shaking her softly to make her connect with the world and anchor herself to it again.

_(She didn’t want to admit that as of late, she’d felt herself being anchored to him rather than to the world. Deep down, she didn’t really mind.)_

Betty sighs in her seat at Pop’s. It’s 11.30 in the night and after tossing and turning on her bed for what felt like years, she had decided to change and head to the diner. Her bedroom had seem too dark and too empty all at once, leaving her breathless and in need to escape. The neon lights of the shop soothed her fried nerves, the now cold remainings of her coffee sat at the table in front of her as she looked out the window.

There were two more people at the diner besides the tired-looking waitress on shift, but it was quite silent, only the soft music playing from the kitchen’s radio could be heard, rustling of pages being turned by a man reading the paper, the sound of the door being open and footsteps in her direction.

_Footsteps in her direction._

Betty looks up just as the person reaches the end of her booth.

A rumpled looking Jughead is staring down at her with a confused yet somewhat amused expression on his face. He’s not wearing his usual working attire, instead he has dark jeans, a black t-shirt and a red flannel over it. Betty has to admit it’s a good look for him, specially with his hair looking like he passed his hands through it several times and is now pointing in several directions. Her hand twitches to reach out and touch it.

“Cooper, what are you doing here?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Hula hooping.” She says, stoic and purely serious for a few seconds before she gives into a small smile. “What does it look like am doing?”

“Wow, insomnia brings out sarcastic Betty. Duly noted.” He chuckles, smiling at her before nodding towards the sit in front of her. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” Betty says, gesturing to the sit with her hand. He quickly sits, or rather lets himself fall onto it in a very relaxed manner that makes her purse her lips to refrain from smiling. “Us insomniacs must stick together.”

“What gave me away?” He asks, looking away for a second to gesture to the waitress, pointing at the cup of coffee in front of Betty, silently asking for one too.

“Well, I certainly hope the bags under your eyes aren’t a fashion statement.” Betty tells him. Jughead raises his eyebrows at her answer before a laugh escapes from his lips.

“Ouch, you wound me, Betts.” He says, putting a hand to his chest and fake-wincing. It all falls useless over the glint of mirth in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, you’re still pretty.” She blurts out and instantly blames it on the lack of sleep and caffeine. Betty is pretty sure a blush must be showing on her face, but Jughead doesn’t miss a beat.

“I know. Imagine what actually getting my beauty sleep would do to this face? Everybody would freak and I don’t to make it harder for you to focus on your work.” He says, leaning back and winking at her. Okay, so maybe they’re both sleep deprived and high on caffeine but she feels content and her insides are doing weird things.

“You’re so selfless, Juggie.” Betty retorts, putting a hand on her chest as if she was moved. “I wanna be like you when I’m older.” Jughead bites his bottom lip at her answer.

“I don’t know… You’re a solid second place behind me.” He states solemnly. “And it doesn’t hurt that you look pretty even when sleep deprived so…”

Betty can’t contain the chuckle that escapes her lips, and a few seconds later both of them are laughing. It feels like the tension in the air has dropped, the echo of their laughter on the diner and the smiles on their faces lights up a spark on her. Jughead looks at her with a smile and she takes the time to really look at him, the flannel that she wants to reach out and touch to see if it’s as soft as it looks, the curl that was fallen over his forehead rebelling against the times Jughead tries to push it back, his long fingers on the table and the way he massages his left hand with them, the dark storm inside his eyes that looks more alive on the neon lights of the diner.

“When I came in you looked pensive.” He starts, taking her out of her reverie. “Penny for your thoughts?” The waitress leaves his coffee on the table, not staying long enough to listen to Jughead’s thanks.

“I was just…” She makes a big vague expression with her hands, trying to imply she was thinking about everything and nothing at the same time but Jughead just stares at her, silently urging her to talk. Betty sighs in defeat. “I don’t know. As of late I’ve been missing my normal life.”

“You mean before the case?” He asks, curious and leans forward in interest.

“Yeah…” Betty looks out the window now, the same mood she had before he came in coming back to her by bits. “I miss not being stressed, sleeping like a baby. I miss going out on dates, going out with Veronica, doing mindless simple cases that take me a week at the very most… I don’t know why I’m explaining it to you, you’ve been in this case for years now.” She scoffs in shame, briefly looking at him before staring back out the window.

“It’s okay to vent. I understand. God knows I vented and whined the very firsts months.” He explains. “Then I suppose I kinda… get used to it.”

“That’s a horrible thing to get used to.” She tells him, pursing her lips.

“It is. But it’s also the life of a law enforcement employee.” He says, shrugging. “Did the case ruin a relationship for you?” Jughead looks suddenly really interested in the packets of sweetener and sugar next to him.

“Why?” she asks, a bit thrown off by the question.

“You mentioned… dates.” He pauses before the word as if compelling himself to say it.

“ _Oh.”_ She says and clears her throat. “No, not really. I did go on dates but no one really catched my eye.” She looks up to find him looking at her, absorbing every word and she’s a bit speechless by the energy his eyes emanate.

“It’s hard to find a relationship when you’re a cop.” He adds, still looking at her.

“Yeah.” Her voice is a little breathless and takes a deep breath. “Between the weird hours and the stress, it can be hard for someone to handle all that.”

“Finding someone who understands.” He says, the connection is broken when he lowers his eyes to his cup of coffee, smoothing his thumb over its rim.

“Exactly.” She adds as an afterthought, intently watching the way his fingers move. There’s a new kind of tension between them, one that’s always felt dormant, just waiting for the right moment.

“And it’s even harder when an agent does find someone who understands but they don’t have the guts to ask them out....especially if they’re their co-worker.” Jughead says and looks up at her, his jaw set and his face stoic even is his eyes are filled with emotion. “I mean, _hypothetically speaking,_ just for the sake of science and whatnot. Said agent, let's call him John, is truly… captivated by this co-worker, Sarah. He thinks she’s the most fascinating woman he’s ever met, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that she’s beautiful but… they’re still working a really hard case. Plus, John is a 100% sure she doesn’t like him, which would suck because she’s all he can think about even when he should really _really_ be focusing on the murderer on the loose instead of how unfair is it that she looks so beautiful in the neon lights of a diner at midnight.” Jughead finishes, sighing and Betty can see the small wince he lets slip before nervously scratching his neck.

“I…” she starts, not sure what to say because she’s currently being attacked by a million emotions in a matter of seconds and she can’t even breathe properly. Jughead grimaces at her.

“It’s okay, you-”

“I think John’s wrong.” She blurts out finally, _finally_ coming to her senses.

“What?” he looks confused for a second, frowning at her.

“I have it on good authority that Sarah… she likes him. Very much.” Betty explains him, biting her lower lip as she sets her cards on the metaphorical table. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

“Of course.” He says, nodding and clearly trying to hold back a smile as his eyes soften in her favorite way, his shoulders have loosened up as well.

“And… I think maybe they could come to an agreement, you know? Wait until they’re done with the case before he asks her on a date.” She adds, leaning forward in a burst of confidence.

“You think she’d say yes?” He asks, eyes shining brightly and Betty thinks they quickly stare at her lips for a second.

“I’m sure she’d say yes.” Betty tells him. “And as far as I know, she thinks he looks super cute all rumpled at midnight.” Jughead cracks and chuckles, passing a hand over his face before leaning on it and smiling at her so beautifully Betty feels her stomach turn upside down.

“John isn’t cute, he is manly and intimidating, intriguing at best.” He tells her, his eyes crinkling at the sides. Betty scoffs at his answer.

“She also spoke about how hot he looked at the shooting range, all broody and angsty, but…” She pauses to look at him. “Mostly about how cute he looks, with that errant curl on his forehead.” Betty reaches out and touches his hair - _Yes, it is as soft as she thought it would be_ \- tucking said curl back with the rest of his raven dark hair. Just when she’s retreating her hand, he catches it with his, the contact making her gasp softly.

Jughead lowers their hands to the table, still grasping hers and starts slowly dragging his thumb over her knuckles. It’s such a simple touch but her skin feels on fire at the contact. She thinks it speaks of their connection, the way he can make her heart sing by only putting his hand over hers.

Betty is still surprised they’ve talked about this, a small part of her wants to step away, millions of reasons why she shouldn’t get involved with a co-worker, an agent, how that could mess up their case but as she stares at his eyes, Betty feels the doubts and reasons vanish into nothingness, being replaced by how right his hand feels in hers. Betty thinks it resembles the feeling she’s been missing for so long.

“At least one good thing came up from insomnia.” He tells her finally, after enjoying silence for a few minutes.

“Yes?” She plays coy and he squeezes her hand in his, a fond look on his face.

“I have a newly found energy boost to finish this stupid case once and for all.” He jokes and they set off laughing like maniacs, not caring of the way people are looking at him like they’re insane.

Later when he walks her home, she feels the kiss he leaves on her cheek like a brand on her skin until the next day.

 

* * *

 

_Today marks the 10th year anniversary of the death of Jason Blossom. This year, the Blossom family has decided to donate a kind amount to the health department to kickstart the building of another hospital._

Betty mutes the TV on the station’s kitchen room before continuing to make her coffee.

“Ugh, can you believe they’re still milking that?” Veronica says next to her. Betty is mildly surprised that she hasn’t run from the station. Technically, Veronica’s shift was over, but she had decided to stay and have a coffee with Betty.“I don’t believe they’re milking it… their kid died, V.” Betty tells her friend, shooting her a warning glance.

“They’re totally milking it. Since his death, their empire has grown a lot. I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but they never truly looked like they cared about Jason.” Veronica continues, arching a brow. “Cheryl was the only one in that family that acted as a normal person would, she doesn’t even go to those weird reunions they made in Jason’s name since she turned 18 and moved out.”

“That’s true… I still don’t know though.” Betty tilts her head back at the TV but they’ve already changed topics. “It is nice of them to donate their money for a brand new hospital.”

“I suppose. They’re still shady to me.” Veronica fake-shudders before she turns her intense glance in her direction. Betty instantly sits straighter under her gaze. “So…”

“Yes?” Betty asks slowly, not really sure she wants to ask in the first place.

“What’s got you all smiley?” her friend asks, linking her hands together and placing her chin on top of them.

“Smiley?”

“Oh, come on! Yesterday I caught you smiling at a yogurt. Unless it was telling you a joke…” Veronica jokes, smiling. “Spill the beans!” Betty hesitates for a moment, but the look in Veronica’s eyes is something that she recognizes. She won’t let it go until she gets answers.

“Well…” She starts, feeling a blush coming up.

“I’m sorry to interrupt girls…” Archie says from the doorstep, grimace on his face. “Betty, you need to come with me.”

“Everything okay?” she asks, jumping out of her seat and throwing the remains of her coffee down the sink. “Where’s Jughead?”

“He’s already on site. Asked for us to meet him there.” Archie explains before both of them wave their goodbyes to Veronica quickly and make their way to the car. “There’s been a bit of a weird situation. I don’t know the full details, but Jughead sounded a bit freaked out.”

“Okay…” She replies slowly, hating the little amount of information her co-worker has. “Where are we going?”

“To the forest.”

 _Well, that doesn’t sound creepy at all,_ she thinks.  

What greets her in the forest, not too deep but not too close to the paths, is what looks like a group of crime scene analysts… but a complete lack of body. At least, at first glance, it looks like the forest in its normality if it weren’t for the people talking and creating a parameter while others download equipement from a white van.

There’s also Jughead, his back turned to them as he speaks with another person. His shoulders looks tense and he’s unmoving as he listens to the man talk.

“Agent Jones.” she calls from a few feet away and he turns his head back to quickly look at her. His expression is somber, the shadows of the trees make him look threatening, like something out of a badly illuminated movie. Jughead dismisses the man he was talking to before turning around to face them.

“Andrews, Cooper.” He nods at them both and quickly starts briefing them. “About two hours ago we received a call from Jessica Evans, she had been jogging through the woods when a stick of wood impaled on the floor with a piece of paper on it caught her attention.”

“A what?” Archie asks, voicing her thoughts. _A stick of wood impaled on the floor with a piece of paper?_

“This is the paper.” Jughead says, showing them an evidence bag with a paper on it.

 

**CALL THE POLICE, I HAVE A PRESENT FOR THEM**

 -  ** **THE SYRUP KILLER   -****

 

“What the actual fuck?” Betty mutters to herself, completely baffled by the turn of events. She re reads it before looking up at Jughead, he looks an equal amount of freaked out and angry somehow.

“She immediately called and then the station called me. To be honest, I have no idea what we’re facing. At plain view, there’s nothing. The forest has been like this for at least months.” Jughead says, passing a hand through his hair. “I gathered a group of people to start digging the ground, we’re bringing metal detectors and all the gear.”

“This is so completely out of character.” Archie says, looking perturbed and still in shock.

“I know.” Jughead says, shaking his head. “I have no Idea what he’s playing at. The note is clearly printed but, Arch, I need you to take it to the lab and have it examined. I don’t trust anyone else carrying it. I also need you to interrogate Jessica Evans.”

“Sure. I’ll head right over.” Archie says, grabbing the note carefully in his hands. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll come back after.” With that, the redheaded agent is off and Jughead looks at his back until he’s out of sight.

“Betty, I need you with me supervising the operation. I need them to be extremely careful when they dig, there has to be minimal damage, okay? I don’t care if it slows us down or we have to stay all night.” he tells her.

“Of course.” Betty nods at him earnestly. Jughead’s eyes soften a fraction and he reaches out, squeezing her shoulder gently.

“Thank you.” He tells her softly.

“Are you okay?” She needs to ask, his skin looks ashen and he’s still super tense, even for the situation.

“Yes, I just… wasn’t expecting him to go all Zodiac on us all of a sudden.” He explains scratching his cheek.

“I’m completely lost as to what is going on, to be completely honest.” She confesses, and it’s true. All information she ever had has vanished from her mind.

“We all are.” He says, nodding towards the team of people at their side. “Now, let’s start… I feel like we’re going to be here a while”:

 

* * *

 

“A while” ended up becoming approximately 8.5 hours.

8.5 hours of the team using metal detectors and digging through the forest’s ground. 8.5 hours of Jughead, Betty and much later Archie guiding the team and helping with the digging themselves to work faster and cover more space of the initial perimeter they had marked.

It’s 8.5 hours later when one of the women of the team shouts “I found something”, after being digging carefully for the past half hour.

 _Something_ turned into _someone_ as they set to carve the space carefully. The first thing to appear was what seemed like a tibia buried several feet underground, exactly as if someone had carved a grave in the middle of the forest. The team worked tirelessly under Jughead and Betty’s watching eyes until they discovered a whole human skeleton.

Betty will remember that moment because she had fought hard to resist the urge to vomit. From the degree of skeletonization, they could tell the body had been there for years. Quite possibly the murder’s first victim.  

By the time they packed the body to ship to the morgue, Betty was both exhausted and too scared to go to sleep. The feeling she’s out of her depth comes back in full force but she pushes it down with force, the new amount of information already buzzing through her mind.

“Either he’s incredibly stupid or he’s playing some kind of power game.” She’s saying to Jughead as they walk to their cars, the team already having packed everything. “I mean, one thing is to leave a note, but to let us find this body? This is insane and nothing like the controlled environment he’s so used to manage. What if it is his first kill? He must’ve not been as good at cleaning as he is now. What if-”

“Betts, Betts…” Jughead stops her, stepping in front of her and grabbing Betty by the shoulders. “I love how your mind works, I truly do, but right now I can’t think straight.” He tells her, moving his hands to cradle her face. “I need sleep… we all do, okay? We have to wait until the autopsy comes through, even filed under urgent it’s gonna take a day so… let’s go to sleep. Okay?” Jughead lowers his eyes to her level and waits for her to nod.

He gives her a small smile and leans forward, kissing her forehead softly, still cradling her face. All the fight instantly drains from her body as she smells the mix of earth and his scent. It feels entirely too soon when he steps away from her, taking his body heat with him. She shivers slightly and he moves closer to her, putting his arm around her shoulders as they walk to the car.

It’s a moment that Betty will come to cherish in the future.

The next day, as she walks back into the office after filing some paperwork, Betty quickly looks back at the clock on the hall. _Only two hours until I can go home,_ she thinks wistfully. Today had been hard and extremely busy, after getting under 4 hours of sleep, she felt stretched thin and ready to eat then head to bed early.

However, the universe has other plans.

When she steps into the small office, Veronica and Archie are chatting quietly, both of them not looking happy. _Great_ , she had walked into a fight between them. Both look up at her when she crosses the doorstep and Betty silently wishes Jughead was with her so she wouldn’t be the only one under the weight of their gazes.

“Uhm… Sorry guys, I can make myself scarce?” She asks politely at them and they look at each other, having a whole silent conversation in under a second.

“No, Betty… we were about to call you. Please sit.” Archie says and they move to the table. Betty is frowning at them, the way they tersely stand in front of her.

“B…” Veronica starts and Betty is surprised to notice the dampness in her friend’s eyes. _Oh, she’s going to kill Archie._ “I’m so sorry.”

That makes her stop. Archie bites his bottom lip before stepping forward, directly in front of her. He looks pale and the muscle on his jaw twitches.

“The autopsy report just came in.” He starts slowly.

“Okay.” Betty mutters softly, not liking at all the weird energy of the room. She looks between them trying to understand.

“Veronica was able to identify the DNA of the bones because it matched information on the system.” He continues, steeling himself. “Betty... the DNA matched Polly Cooper.”  

Her blood freezes.

“No.” She hears her voice but she doesn’t remember talking. “There’s a mistake.”

“B, I ran the test three times. It’s a 99% match. I’m so sorry.” Veronica tells her, a tear escaping her eyes.

Everything is spinning as white noise fills her ears. She’s only vaguely aware of her surroundings. Phrases like “I have to take you off the case” and “I’m really sorry, Betty” are being thrown around, all she can do is nod in answer and keep breathing as she stares at the wall behind her co-worker.

She feels nothing and everything at the same time.

The world stops spinning to settle into a timeless limbo. She’s underwater unable to breathe, images lose their sharpness, colors fade into nothingness and the distinct feeling that nothing ever will be right again appears.

And her heart?

It shatters on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well. I wrote this all in one go, I think I'm blind. Thank you for all the kind mesages, people! I could kiss every sinlge one of you :)  
> Now, as Veronica says...  
>  _The plot thickens..._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring a cameo of Jughead in his black tank top for the fans.

 

> _I pass the little note through the piece of wood, making sure the note can be seen from a notable distance. Enough that I know someone is bound to see it eventually and call the station._
> 
> _I take a few steps back, not minding that I step over where she is. If it was someone else, I might’ve had more respect but… not for her. The echo of whatever she enchanted me to feel resonates softly inside of me, the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith herself would have that effect on the mortal and naïve little boy I used to be._
> 
> _Bringing something akin to the antichrist to earth was not my destiny. I was meant for greater things, a mission and a way that I was fulfilling. Stopping this little minion was only the beginning._
> 
> _I remember the guilt I felt, that amount of energy just directed into an emotion that I had no reason to feel, I now realize. Now it angers me, how I could’ve made a bigger dent into my list, a bigger significance._
> 
> _The world wasn’t built in a day, I remind myself. Patience, control and strategy were my friends, and in order to take the devil by the horns and make him bow I had to be extremely careful._
> 
> _She was a shade of gold that was as beautiful as it was deadly. A particular shine to it that made you fall like an insignificant bug… I'd know._
> 
> _I look at the piece of paper and then my surroundings, knowing it’s not likely someone will be in the woods past 3 in the morning. I briefly wonder if I should really do this, but the memory of gold makes me growl at the air, anger filling me. Foolish, I was so foolish._
> 
> _I hate them all. They need to die._
> 
> _They will._

Jughead has slept the best four hours of his life and they have carried him throughout the whole day away from the office. The FBI headquarters had asked him to do some things on the side, which caused Jughead to work outside the station most of the day.

The drive back to the station is under the clear sky, as if for once it matches his insides. Jughead scoffs at the thought, Jellybean would have a field day making fun of the way he was thinking. As if the world was new for him to discover in this rose-colored perspective.

He thinks of _her_ , the way her face had light up at his words and how relaxed she had seemed the longer they talked, pieces of armor chipping off her slowly. How soft her skin was, even with the rough patches from handling guns, the way her hair shone ethereally gold in the neon lights and how the coffee had tasted amazing that night. He is completely biased about his memories but he can’t find it in himself to mind, Jughead is going to take the flicker of happiness and hold onto it with all his might.

Finally arriving, he catches himself in the mirror. His reflection looks clearly tired but there’s also a new shine in his eyes that he believes will be difficult to dampen. Jughead tries his best to quell his feelings into a more professional stance, after all, they still had a case to work on. The last thing he wanted was to make Betty uncomfortable at her workplace by being a staring asshole who couldn’t seem to contain his grin.

When he claims himself sobered up enough, he gets out of the car and walks into the station. He waves at Madelaine, who greets him with a smile and turns to the hall leading to the office. It’s a small station, but he’s grown really attached to it _(and its employees)_ , over the course of these months. He’s used to the big impersonal FBI offices and detached places, but this station had been weirdly turned into a secondary home and he could feel it, as if it had been carved into the walls, the love and consideration put into the makings of it. A permanent mark on its aura.

Just as he makes the last turn, his body collides with another. Reaching out to catch the person before they fall in quick reflexes, he finds the green eyes he’s been obsessing about staring back at him.

That was a lie. These eyes were merely an echo, a replica of the lively bright green eyes Betty Cooper possessed and his brain stops immediately, processing the feeling of how wrong a sight that was. She looks okay if not a little pale, her lips not caring the soft pink color they usually do.

“Betty… are you okay?” he asks, still holding her by the elbows. It seems to take her out a trance, her eyes focusing on him for a second before she’s stepping aside and out of his reach. His fingers ache to reach for her but he remains in his place, a cold sensation spreading through his body at the distant look in her eyes. Suddenly, the station walls don’t seem so inviting anymore.

“I don’t feel well, I’m heading home.” She answers, smiling weakly at him. He feels desperation starting to bubble up inside of him along with fear. She had been okay yesterday, had she changed her mind? Had she realized he wasn’t worth the risk? Was she really feeling unwell? Had she caught a cold on their way back yesterday?  A million thoughts fly over Jughead’s head in just the second it takes for him to reply.

“I’ll take you home if you don’t feel well.” He says. Her skin does have a sickly tint to it, her eyes are glazed over and she’s not really meeting his eyes. He takes a small step forward at the same time she moves backwards. Jughead is honestly and thoroughly lost. He stands there, looking at her trying to read her but she’s completely closed off, a wall built between them. No ladder, no windows, full out brick and cement wall erected between her and the rest of the world.

“No, no. That’s okay.” She replies, giving him another weak smile and she’s off before he can even call her name.Jughead looks at the spot she'd just vacated and if he believed in that sort of thing, he’d say the space was vibrating with the reverberations of her presence, an imprint in his mind of dull eyes and closed off face that wouldn’t be soon forgotten.

His stomach is tied in knots and his instincts are in blaring dangerously at him. _Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong._ He’s torn between running after her and leaving her to have her space. Jughead ultimately decides to stay in the station but contact Veronica so she can check on Betty, not really sure the blonde would welcome his presence.

He sighs, worry deeply rooted in his brain, like an itch that won’t go away but still makes his way into the office. Jughead places a hand over his sternum, trying to calm his racing heart but fails, only becoming more aware of just how fast it is beating.

The view in the office is not as comfortingly known as he’d like to. Veronica is looking pale, the ghost of tears in her eyes and cheeks as Archie soothingly caresses her hand with his thumb. Both of them look up as he enters the office, his co-worker looking vaguely wary and guilty.

“Hey guys.” He says, trying to diffuse the tension. If they’re having couple issues, he’d like to be as far from that as possible.

“Hey Jughead.” Veronica says, rising from her seat. Archie follows her with his eyes like a lost puppy but remains rooted in his place, body slightly leaning forward as if not totally able to not follow her. “Uhm...We’ll talk later. I need to head to my office”

“Wait, Veronica.” Jughead calls her before she’s out the door. “Betty told me she was feeling ill but I… Uhm… would you mind checking in on her later?”

Veronica’s face crumbles for a moment before she sighs and regains control again. If Jughead had been wary and slightly alarmed about the whole Betty interaction, his brain was spinning out of control now.

“Why did you make that face? What happened?” He asks, looking between Archie and Veronica, who are both staring at each other silently having a conversation.

“Jughead…” Veronica starts.

“Betty is out of the case, Jug.” Archie interrupts bluntly and Jughead turns to watch his friend with what can only be the most baffled expression in the century. He scoffs a little before answering.

“I’m sorry. I must’ve heard you wrong because it sounded like you just told me, the higher ranking agent, that Betty is off the case.” Jughead asks, stepping forward. He feels something bubbling up inside of him, he hates being thrown out of the loop and this feels bigger than it seems. _For fuck’s sake, I’ve only been away for a day._

“The DNA test came back with a match.” Archie explains, silently begging Jughead to understand. “The match was under the name Polly Cooper.”

Jughead’s blood freezes over and he can’t do anything but stare at his partner as a million scenarios go through his mind. Archie looks like he had wanted to rip off the band-aid quickly, but in truth it just feels like he might’ve torn Jughead’s skin from his muscle.

“What…”

“Polly is Betty’s sister. She’s been missing for years now.” Veronica explains, making Jughead aware she’s still there.

Panic and rage fly through him in an incredible pace that makes him feel slightly nauseous and dizzy. Betty’s sister. Missing. _Dead_ . Betty’s lifeless eyes and distant nature. Betty leaving the station on her own. _Betty._

“And you let her leave alone?” He directs the question to both of them, a new set of anger for different reasons. “You didn’t wait for me to tell her? What the fuck, Archie?”

“She arrived here early, I couldn’t just make stupid chit chat with that information hanging over my head, man!” Archie explains, lifting his arms in frustration. “She’s my friend, too.” Jughead understands, but the other part of him wants to push Archie against the wall and bang his head against it repeatedly.

“She’s a big girl, she’ll be okay. She said she’d call me if she needed anything. Betty wanted her space.” Veronica tells him, frowning at him but Jughead couldn’t care less about both of them right now.

“What about what she needs, huh?” Jughead asks, shaking his head before he’s out of the door and heading towards the parking lot.

They should’ve waited for him, they should’ve talked to Betty, not simply let her go after she found her sister was dead like it was nothing mayor and earth shattering. _God, I hope she’s not too far… and I was worried it was about me, stupid selfish idiot._

He gets out of the station in a quick jog, looking around, trying to catch the whispers of blonde hair shining in the morning sun. There’s nothing in plain view but the number of cars and cement. Jughead makes his way to his car, in hopes to reach her on her way home when the sight of her car catches his eyes. Frowning, he walks towards it. Betty’s apartment is not that far, she could’ve maybe chose to walk instead. The thought of Betty driving alone in that conditions frightens him a little, even knowing how tough she is.

When Jughead reaches the car, however, the sight of Betty sitting on the floor with her back to the driver’s door and silent track of tears running down her cheeks, breaks his heart in a million pieces. She looks like a blurry copy of the Betty he knows and has come to crave daily, the itch to wrap her in bubble wrap and protect her from the world hits him square in the chest like a thousand bricks.

“Betts…” he begins, not sure what to do but still he steps forward and kneels so he’s at eye level with her rather than staring down at her. He leaves a good amount of space between them still, allowing her to call the shots. “Betty…”

“She’s dead.” Betty whispers, enough that Jughead is able to listen. She’s staring at somewhere behind him, eyes wide as tears fall down her cheeks in a steady beat. “She’s really dead.”

“I’m so sorry, Betty.” Jughead tells her, putting a careful hand over her shoulder. He’s lost, he doesn’t know what to do to make her feel better. Hell, he isn’t even sure she can feel better, Jughead cannot even imagine someone telling them Jellybean is dead. A shiver runs through his spine at the thought as he brings himself back to the present.

“Jughead…” Betty says, looking up at him now with glassy and red-rimmed eyes. He realizes he’d do anything for her at that moment.

“Yes?”

“Can you take me home?” Her voice is small as she talks and his heart breaks all over again.

“Of course, Betts. Come on, let’s take you home.” He helps her up, letting her lean heavily on his body as they walk to the passenger side of her car. Jughead quickly jogs to the driver side once she’s sitting and starts the car, wanting to get her out of the station as soon as possible.

He might not be sure what Betty needs right now, but he thinks being anywhere near the station is the last thing on that list. So, he drives them to her apartment as fast as he can without breaking any traffic laws. Jughead gets out of the car and reaches Betty just as she’s getting out of the car. She looks a little more aware of her surroundings but the way her shoulders are slumped and the blue in her eyes looks muted tells another story.

“Can I come up with you?” He asks softly, coming beside her and placing his hand on her elbow gently. She looks unsure as she stares at him.

“I don’t know…” She starts.

“Betty…” He says, sighing and taking a small step forward. “Please let me be there for you.”

Betty looks into his eyes, hers filling with a new set of tears as they stand there in the parking lot of her apartment. Time seems to slow to a stop at that moment as he looks into her eyes and sees the vulnerability there. He doesn’t want to leave her alone like this, he’d like to be there for her, helping her with anything she needed to make the hurt seem a little more tolerable. But if her next words were really a negative, he’d obviously let her be.

“Okay.”

Jughead’s chest caves in with a relieved sigh as he stares at her. Betty starts walking towards the building. The ride in the elevator is comfortably silent, she is staring nowhere in particular and Jughead can tell she’s going through the motions, letting her body move in autopilot.

They enter her apartment quietly, Betty leaving her purse and coat carefully on the hanger. Jughead looks around, silently taking in every detail he can in the few seconds he lets himself take his eyes off Betty. She’s not facing him as she moves to the kitchen to drink a glass of water.

“I’m going to take a shower. Make yourself at home.” She tells him before she’s off down the hall and the sound of a door shutting resonates on the room.

Jughead feels uncomfortable for a few seconds before he cracks his neck and takes off his coat. He heads to the kitchen and tries to find some much needed caffeine and tea for Betty. Jellybean always says that sorrows are less heavy if you have a cup of tea with a dash of honey. Luckily for him he finds both in Betty’s kitchen and sets them aside to make it when she’s out the shower.

He can hear the water running as he drinks his coffee, the steady beat of it soothing him as he ignores the idea that the drops that fall into the bathtub might not be only from the pipes. The apartment is simple yet very Betty. Adorned with a minimalistic feel but with enough decorations to make it a home. His hotel might be luxurious and expensive, but it’s never going to compare to the homey feeling this apartment has. Jughead finds himself missing his apartment, a place of his own as he moves, leaving his coffee on the table in front of the couch, to the bookshelves to inspect Betty’s collection.

He's both amused and shock at the variety. From gun and law enforcement related books to YA and encyclopedias. Next to it, there’s one of those paintings divided in three sections, together they form what looks like a vague silhouette of the Hogwarts castle which makes Jughead smile a little at the sight.

The sound of a door opening takes him out of his reverie and Jughead turns around in its direction. Betty is walking down the hall and he thinks she’s easily the most beautiful woman Jughead’s ever seen. Her hair is down in slight damp waves, face is clear of make-up and she’s wearing pajama pants with cupcakes on them and a white t shirt that once had a stamp that’s been faded into something unrecognizable.

“Hey…” he says, softly. Betty is standing with her arms wrapped around herself as a deep sigh escapes her lips.

“Hi.” Her voice is breathy, eyes on something at his side. Jughead looks in the direction and sees a few photographs hanged on the kitchen wall. He hadn’t reached those yet but as Betty walks towards it, he follows, stopping right beside her.

He instantly knows which one she’s looking at. There’s one picture in the right corner of Betty hugging another blonde and smiling brightly at the camera. The person could only be Polly because she looks very much like an older version of Betty, as if someone had forgotten the exact features and had ended up painting an altered version of the woman beside him.

“She went missing when I was 16 years old.” Betty whispers. Jughead looks at her to find her still staring at the photo, her eyes getting glassier by the second. “I always thought- I mean… Part of me always thought she’d come back. I used to have this weird fantasy where she’d pop up out of nowhere and ask for forgiveness, for leaving me alone and vanishing.”

Betty breathes out a humorless laugh as a tear falls down her cheek. Jughead feels a pang of sadness, he’d like to curse every single deity that could’ve possibly dealt the cards that constitute Betty’s destiny and punch them in the face for hurting her this way.

“I can’t believe she… all this time.” Betty mutters, shaking her head softly. “I used to be so mad, so angry at her for just leaving and not caring about me. I was so angry, and all this time she’s been rotting away in a forest.”

A wrecked sob escapes her mouth and he can’t tolerate it anymore. Jughead closes the distance between them and hugs her tightly to his chest, threading his hand on her still damp hair. Betty cries into his neck, fisting his shirt with her hands on his back, pushing them impossibly closer.

“None of this is your fault, Betts. You didn’t know.” He whispers into her hair, leaving a gentle kiss on her forehead and rubbing circles on her back with his free hand.

“Why didn’t I feel something? I should’ve felt something. She was my sister. She was supposed to come back home.” Betty’s sobs are almost uncontrollable now, her chest heaving against his in a way that breaks his heart all over again, it’s dust on the floor by now. His eyes fill with tears against his better judgement and he hugs her tighter against him.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m so sorry.” He tells her, not really stopping to think about the nickname that just slipped his mouth.

They stay like that until Betty’s sobs calm down. She’s taking deep breaths, relaxing muscle by muscle under his touch. He doesn’t move an inch except for his hands that never stop caressing her back and hair.

Jughead cannot imagine the amount of pain she must be in this moment, he can’t hope to understand what she’s going through and there’s the distinct feeling of frustration and desperation inside of him over not knowing what to do to help her. Jughead has never been much of a comforting presence and he can’t help but wanting to be the best for her in such a difficult time.

“What do you say if we lay down on the couch?” He suggests, feeling the heavy way she’s leaning on him. Not that he cares, but he’d rather she’s more comfortable.

“I think I’d rather go to sleep on my bed.” She tells him, voice hoarse from crying. Betty leans back and then steps away from him, only a little to create a space between them both.

“Okay…” he replies, not sure what to say. “I’ll stay here if you want me to…” he continues, softly and insecure, once again letting her decide.

Betty merely nods, gifting him a small smile that he returns. Jughead reaches out on a whim and grabs her hand when his fingers touch something wet. He looks down, frowning and sees it. Blood. Quickly, he turns her hand around and sees the little marks on her palm that look like crescent moon shapes made from her nails. Jughead lifts his eyes to her, Betty is staring down at her hand too, a little wide eyed.

“Betty…” he starts, mind buzzing.

“Oh.” She merely says, as if that explained it all. “I didn’t realize… I haven’t done that in a while.”

Jughead gulps, swallowing what feels like a ton of bricks and decides to momentarily avoid the _haven’t done that in a while_ sentence for his sanity. She didn’t need to be on the receiving end of the thousand questions running through Jughead’s brain.

“Let’s get these cleaned up before bed, okay?” He tries, gentle tone at the still startled look on her face.

He sits Betty on the couch and heads off to the bathroom, where she told him there would be first aid supplies. He quickly finds what he needs and walks back to the living room, sitting on the edge of the coffee table to tend to Betty’s self-inflicted wounds. _Self-inflicted wounds._ The thought resonates through every part of his brain, making him feel agitated. If the need to protect her had been strong, now it was immeasurable and filled every molecule in his body.

Jughead takes his time both calming his erratic heartbeat and carefully cleaning her wounds so they won’t get infected. Betty is completely still and silent during the process, something that he’s not quite sure should comfort or scare him. When he’s done, Jughead holds her hands lightly in his, thumbs caressing them slowly before he raises them and kissed her knuckles. In a perfect world, he’d have healing powers and could travel back in time to prevent all of this from happening, but here in reality he’ll accept the grateful look he finds on Betty’s face when he looks up.

“There you go… now bed.” Jughead tells her, offering a small smile.

Betty raises to her feet, squeezing his shoulder on her way down the hall. She gives him a nod. _Thank you for being here,_ it says. And he merely nods back, knowing he couldn’t possibly be anywhere else in the world nor he wants to but refraining from putting that in words.

Jughead sighs once he’s alone, trying to lift some pressure off his chest but it’s completely useless. Moving to the couch, he takes off his tie, throwing it aside and popping open the first buttons of his shirt in an attempt to get air into his lungs. He wonders if now would be a good time to process all that’s happened this past few days, the facts just catching up to him like a rush of adrenaline that’s quickly fading.

His mind flies everywhere, scattered with over a hundred preoccupations, a sense of unease settling over him and threatening to never go away. Jughead takes his phone from his pocket and texts Jellybean with a sense of urgency.

_I love you._

It takes only a couple of minutes for her to answer, but they’re enough for Jughead to pass his hands through his hair several times, rendering it untamable.

_I love you too. You ok?_

The sense of relief floods him, a preoccupation he didn’t even realize he had soothed.

_Tough day. I just wanted to check in. I’ll tell you everything later._

“Juggie?” Betty’s voice carries itself with a low echo from her bedroom.

Jughead lifts himself from the couch and follows the way he saw her walk into. The bedroom door is ajar and there’s a soft light that filters through the window that illuminates the room softly. Betty is laying down on the bed, frowning in his direction. The duvet seems to almost swallow her in and he absently thinks she looks adorable.

“Hey…” he says from the doorstep, not really sure if he should step inside the room itself. “You okay?” He mentally kicks himself after asking such a stupid question.

“I… I don’t… Uhm-” Betty tries, hesitant and moving slightly under the covers. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Jughead’s heart starts racing again at the confession and he bites his bottom lip to control himself. Carefully, he steps into the room. He’s walking slowly, giving her time to go back on her word or anything, but she doesn’t. Betty only looks as he walks closer and closer until he sits on the edge of the bed, hand moving to cup her cheek. Betty tilts her face, pressing into his hand, it makes him smile at her as a warmth blooms in his veins.

“I’m here.” He assures her. _I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Preferably ever._

“No…” Betty says, sitting up. His hand falls to her lap but they don’t move. “Would you mind sleeping here… with me?”

The question throws him off. He had been expecting probably anything but that. Only one more look at Betty with her slumped shoulders and the way the little wisps of hair seem like a golden halo around her brings him to his answer.

“Uhm… sure.” He whispers. Betty nods at him, a little sigh of relief escaping her.

“Third drawer.” She points to a dresser on the opposite wall. “You’ll find clothes to change into there. Kevin left a pair of pants here.”

Jughead moves towards the dresser, quickly finding a pair of faded track pants to change into. He makes his way to the bathroom and puts the pants in record time, taking off his shirt and leaving him in his common black tank top.

Betty is laying down again when he emerges. Jughead feels self-conscious and in uncharted territory as he moves to the opposite side of the bed. He hesitates for a few seconds before climbing in. The second his body touches the mattress, he realizes how tense and tired he really is. The way his spine seems to groan and re-accommodate itself, his muscles relax and his energy seems to suddenly go away.

He finishes getting comfortable before looking at her. Betty is looking back at him with wide eyes, something dull in them that he’d like to make disappear.

“Hi.” He says, awkward as ever. Jughead mentally kicks himself again.

“Thank you.” She says instead. Her voice is grave and small, she shifts a little closer to him. “For being here…” she explains and he’s shaking his head lightly.

“Anything for you.” He whispers back, realizing then that it’s completely true. There’s probably very little he wouldn’t do for Betty Cooper, the woman that in so little time has managed to make a home inside his heart. Jughead moves to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his knuckles fall forming a path down her cheek and chin, following the lines of her jawline.

Betty moves then, coming closer until Jughead realized her intentions and lifts his arm for her to comfortably lay her head his chest. He’s pretty sure she can hear the rapid beating of his heart but he doesn’t mind as his arm falls on her middle, bringing her a little bit closer to him. The smell of her hair hits his nostrils, the warmth and her body molding perfectly with his is something he will cherish in his memories, whatever happens from now on.

In that moment, that night… as Betty falls asleep with Jughead’s arms around her and he feels like he’s seeing reality through rose-colored, bittersweet, daydream quality glasses, he knows he has learned three new things in this couple of days.

He’d do close to anything for her.

He can only hope the space Betty’s made inside the once empty caverns of his heart never vanishes or goes cold.

And last...

He’s going to catch that son of a bitch, even if it kills him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. 
> 
> I have issues with this chapter. This is an important one to me, I wanted to do justice to both of them and to Betty's grief. I'm not sure if I achieved it but this is me trying... *sighs nervously*  
> I would like to thank every single one of you that's been commenting. I'm so overwhelmed by the love you're giving me, you guys rock!  
> I hope you enjoyed this angst fest... three more chapters to go! :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this 13k beast will be enough for you guys to forgive my tardiness <3  
> Love you all.  
> Beta'd by the most amazing human being: jandjsalmon. This fic wouldn't exist without you.

> _ I sit on the expensive chair next to the fire, patiently waiting for them to arrive.  _
> 
> _ I’m done with the waiting. The voice is done with the waiting. Its patience has been drained, ran its course and now I’m left with the bitter taste in my mouth.  _
> 
> _ Anticipation fills my veins. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this house and now I can finally see the devil luring its crevices and the dark spots. Its energy is heavy, as if the secrets and sins that took place here still remained.  _
> 
> _ My mission is coming to an end and I find it bittersweet. I wish it wasn’t true, but I will miss seeing the sinner’s eyes go hollow and blank, it was such a pretty sight that now I will only see twice more before I’m done for good.  _
> 
> _ The door rattles a little as they open it and it takes them a while until they see me sitting, analyzing their movements and absorbing something I’ve come to hate so much.  _
> 
> _ The devil stares back at me with shocked eyes, opening their mouths several times before speaking. I mostly smile, relishing to having caught their surprise. Of course the devil was too smart to just habitate one person, it’d take at least two to house him.  _
> 
> _ “How… What are you doing here?” He asks, throat gulping violently. I scoff, surely they knew.  _
> 
> _ “I’ve come to complete my mission and send you back to where you came from.” I say, slowly getting up. They take a step back, a part of me is proud that the devil fears me.  _
> 
> _ He should.  _
> 
> _ “You’re the one doing the killings, aren’t you? You’ve turned into… a monster.” She says.  _
> 
> _ “I’M DOING WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE.” I yell, something wild and nasty ripping my insides, crawling to get out. I take a deep breath, I know I need to do this right.  _
> 
> _ I take two more steps towards them. Clearly they understand, because they don’t dare to move a muscle as I approach them. She has tears in her eyes, a subtle tone of shame colors them. He looks still in shock, but I can see the darkness rising behind his eyes too.  _
> 
> _ “You forget something… a monster is made. And I’m nothing but what you made of me…” I let my words linger a little, relishing the truth in them. “Isn’t it the truth… mother?” _
> 
> _ The tear in her eyes finally falls and with it… the last of my control.  _

 

First comes numbness. 

Betty is grateful for it. Numbness is an old friend coming to visit her, a soothing balm to the horrifying thoughts and images going off in her brain at all hours of the day. She clings to it as if her life depends on it and sometimes it even feels like that statement might be true.

_ Blunt trauma. Broken leg. Death caused by head wound.  _

Those are the words that Betty will forever have ingrained in her brain now, words that described her sister’s death. She has a feeling that it will take a long while until she can hear those words and not flinch violently.  _ They are just words,  _ the logical part of her thinks. The part of her brain that has been taking over lately as she goes in autopilot day to day. 

Sheriff Keller made her take the following week off, which resulted in Betty staring out the window for countless hours until somebody shook her out of her stupor. 

The way the waterdrops crash and fall down quietly reminds her of the way Alice had collapsed to the floor when she found out her missing daughter was dead. Slowly, then all at once. As if they were suspended in a vicious limbo of time. 

Alice’s screams filled the walls of the precinct, the sound seemed to carry off days after in Betty’s ears. She had held her mother as she fell apart, her father sitting in shock and silent tears running down his face. Betty had not dared look at anyone else as she wrapped her arms around her mother, her sweater growing increasingly wet. 

The silence that followed was deafening. The way Alice crawled into her room, not to come back out of it until her body absolutely demanded it of her. Betty’s brain had gone into high gear, putting up walls from her emotions in such a way that she was left behind too. How could she break apart when she needed to take care of her grieving mother? 

“I’m okay,” she had said when Veronica approached her that same day. Her facade has cracked a little bit when her best friend hugged her but otherwise it was nothing. 

Betty had the emotional spectrum of a dried wall most of these days. Those she spent trying to feed her mother as Alice stared into nothingness and hugged the old teddy bear Polly never slept without. It was a sight that should have broken her heart, but how could you break something that was already in bits and pieces? You could only brush away the dust. 

Betty logically knew that this numbness she felt was temporary and dangerous. That once reality set in, the shock faded away, and she stopped hanging out so much at her mother’s house… she’d crumble. For now, she went through the motions, day by day, hour by hour. 

As days went by, Alice woke up again and the very first action she took is to call to buy a columbarium niche. It startles something in Betty’s center, the words rattling the bricks on the metaphorical walls.

There’s no ceremony. All three of them arrive to the cemetery with Polly’s ashes in a pretty vase. Betty will remember this as the first crack in her facade. Seeing her sister’s engraved name on that niche makes her stomach turn painfully. 

When your parents die you’re supposedly an orphan, but when a sibling dies… what does it make you besides empty and hollow? What does it make you besides left feeling like you just lost a limb? Are you even a sister anymore? 

The thought makes Betty’s breath catch in her throat. She excuses herself from her parents and only makes it to a tree out of sight before she’s heaving violently, unable to breathe. The grass is ridiculously green here and it’s such an irony that Betty wants to rip it out piece by piece. Anger flares up and down like fire in her throat, burning from the inside out. 

It takes her a couple of minutes to get a grip and for her stomach to stop trying to get rid of breakfast - _ yes, black coffee is still breakfast -.  _ The trip back home is quiet and heavy, none of them speaking. 

Another crack in her walls appears when during dinner one night, Hal starts laughing to himself. Another time, Betty would’ve encouraged this, but right now she can’t bring herself to really care. It’s minutes later when Alice, rather bluntly, asks Hal what he’s laughing about. Off he starts talking about the time when Polly saw newborn Betty and asked what are babies useful for. 

Alice’s mouth trembles before turning into the smallest of smiles and with it, Betty can feel her heart kickstart painfully once more. She’s helpless but to listen to her parents share stories of Polly as a kid, the nostalgia thick in the air, replaying her own stories with her sister in her head but unable to speak about them, not yet.

Pretty soon, it finishes in tears… but as Betty holds her mother’s hand in hers she can’t help but feel as if something has been accepted and let go.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, her veneer falls like a bad game of Jenga, with the pull of one single piece everything comes crashing down. 

Betty’s first week back at work as a common detective is more of the same, mostly paperwork and pitying glances over her desk, Veronica checking in on her over the stupidest things. Other than that she’s pretty much left alone. Either it’s the fear of awkwardness from her fellow officers or it’s the way Betty simply doesn’t make an effort to really  _ be  _ there besides in what needs to be done, she doesn’t know. 

Her apartment is spotless because insomnia might suck but it makes her clean every single surface until the only dusty space remaining is inside herself. Those places she can’t clean, so she stuck to reordering the bookshelves again and then some. 

Friday night, somewhere past 11pm, a knock comes on the door as she’s pretending to watch something on Netflix. Her hair is in a messy bun and she’s wearing her fuzziest pajamas as she opens the door. 

Jughead stares back at her and even she has to admit that he doesn’t look any better than she does. Not that she should judge him, because he hasn’t been anything but amazing. Betty feels a little guilty at having ignored him this past week, but she can’t bring herself to reach for her phone anytime it’s rang outside of work hours. The energy it took to just be awake was too much for her to be aware of her messages. 

“Hi,” he says quietly. Jughead is not wearing his work clothes, just a dark pair of jeans with combat boots and a very soft looking maroon sweater that accentuates the circles under his eyes. 

“Hello,” she whispers back. They stand there for a second, his eyes roaming all over her face. Betty simply looks at his eyes and the almost unfamiliar soothing calm they bring her. “Oh, come in.” 

“Thank you.” He enters the apartment slowly, as if he’s giving her time to kick him out. The silence is a little bit awkward and she hates it a little bit, the way he puts his hands in his pockets, alternating between looking at her and the floor.

“So… how’s the case?” she asks, lightly. Truly not knowing why the words came out of her mouth, but they did. And she does want to know, anger sparking inside. Jughead grimaces a little and stops softly moving back and forth on his feet. 

“You know I can’t tell you anything about that, Betty…” his voice carries a huge amount of guilt and sadness, it’s a mild echo of many of the emotions she knows are buried deep within her and threatening to bubble up the longer she’s close to him. 

Damn Jughead and the way he could always get her to speak to him. Damn him to hell and back for worming his way into her heart and taking permanent residence. Damn him for being such a soothing presence. Damn him for making her forget about her troubles even for a second. 

“You’ve…” he starts, taking Betty out of her reverie. “You haven’t really been answering my messages, not that you have to, obviously. But I’ve been worried and I… I was-I wanted to know how you were.” 

_ Crack. _

_ Crack. _

In this week and a half after the news, besides the first night with him… she couldn’t feel anything. This numbness took over every part of her, not one tear had been shed after that night, and while everyone asked  _ Oh, Betty… I’m so sorry about your loss. How are you doing?  _ she had always been polite and answered  _ I’m okay.  _ Not that anyone really bought it or genuinely cared about the answer… at least not the great majority, but for these couple days it was fine. It was enough. 

Now, as Jughead looks at her with stormy blue eyes, hair unkempt and the most sincere  expression she’s seen… she feels like she can finally let herself answer truthfully and with that, the bomb of emotions inside of her reaches zero. Suddenly, she’s allowed to feel. There’s a tear falling down her cheek before she can even open her mouth to talk. 

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.” The words are half spoken, half a whimper as she finally breaks down. Which makes it all worst, she doesn’t know how to feel. How do you mourn somebody twice? How does your brain deal with the fact that this person that has been missing for ten years, an absence in your life, is now dead? How can you grieve when all this time you’ve been angry?

“Betty,” Jughead says, looking like it’s taking every single molecule to restrain himself from reaching out. 

_ Fuck it,  _ Betty thinks as she basically runs the small space between and wraps her arms around his neck. His scent makes a crack in her foundation even more, it resembles being free. Like when you give up into the wave instead of fighting back and become a part of the sea. 

Jughead instantly cradles her close to his chest, so close that not even a piece of paper could fit between their bodies. Betty wouldn’t have it any other way as she turns her face slightly to the side to bury her nose in his neck. It smells like comfort and she melts into him as the tears fall down her face. Tears turn into sobs that wreck her lungs each time, threatening to never let her breathe properly again. 

Jughead holds her all the same, one of his hands making circles on her back while the other is buried deep in her hair. She feels him shifting enough so his face is in her hair. Both of them silently relishing in the comfort of the other person, even through Betty’s violent sobs that make her whole body shake with a terrible onslaught of emotions. 

It takes a couple of minutes for Betty to calm down, her torso still hitching with the aftershocks of her crying. She hates to admit that she feels better, though. A part of her whispers  _ your sister is dead, you shouldn’t feel better _ … but she does and she tries her best not to pay a lot of attention to those intrusive thoughts as Jughead squeezes her softly and leans his temple against her forehead. She’s resting her head in his shoulder now, both still standing near the door, not wanting to break the moment.

“I’m sorry I cried all over you again,” she whispers softly. Jughead scoffs against her, pulling the hair tie from her almost gone bun to let her hair drop over her shoulders, gently massaging her scalp.

“I don’t mind,” he replies, and Betty can see a soft small smile on his face, eyes focused on getting his fingers through her hair again and again. He finally tucks a strand behind her ear and looks down at her. Betty does her best to gift him a little smile. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” she says, voice low as they stare at each other. Right here, right now, Betty feels more herself than she’s felt in a week and a half, as if she is finally seeing some rays of sun between the scary dark clouds. Jughead swallows nervously for a second, as if debating whether to say something or not. 

“I missed you,” he says finally, and her chin bobs for a completely different reason. She’s missed him too, and even in the midst of it all… she’s so happy he’s here.

“I missed you too,” Betty tells him. Jughead’s face softens and then he’s leaning forward, placing a kiss on her cheek, then her temple and forehead. She sighs, getting even closer to him, if that’s possible. “Thank you for coming to see me,” she whispers against his neck. 

“No place I’d rather be, Betts.” And she believes him, the words ring true in her ears, making her want to cry all over again. It’s seconds later when Jughead’s stomach groans and they both chuckle at the loud sound. “I haven’t had dinner yet, sorry.” 

“I could make us something, if you’d like…” She tells him, putting some space between them so she can see his face. “I haven’t really eaten dinner, to be honest.”  _ I haven’t really been able to pass the food down my throat _ is what she means, she can see the understanding in Jughead’s eyes… how they cloud over a little in concern for her. 

“Only if you let me help,” he replies, smiling at her.

Betty nods and he places another lingering kiss on her forehead before they part, though his hand wanders to her shoulder, all the way down her arm to her hand, lacing their fingers together in a gesture that makes Betty feel as if her heart filled with warmth and unicorns. 

They make their way to her kitchen, still joined by their hands and she doesn’t let his go to open the fridge. Which is a little empty, but there’s just enough for her to cook up some pasta. 

Jughead put water to boil as Betty gathers the ingredients for the sauce. Quickly, they set off to cut some leftover chicken and tomatoes, making quick work. Betty’s heart pangs with nostalgia as she observes the way they wordlessly communicate, how Jughead hands her things before she needs them and she does the same. 

She’s hit by the impact of how much she’s truly missed him and it’s funny how Betty hadn’t really noticed until he was right in front of her. They silently watch the pasta cook, Betty leaning on Jughead, her back to his chest and his arms around her middle. She closes her eyes at one point when Jughead starts planting barely there kisses from shoulder to jaw. 

It’s this weird feeling, like something inside of her is being filled and it was something that could only be done by him. This piece that’s been missing this week, this comforting presence that makes her feel not as if nothing has happened, but like everything will eventually be alright. Betty doesn’t want to negate that her sister was murdered, but the fact that Jughead stepped into her apartment - and life - bringing hope and comfort is something she will always be grateful for. 

They spend the next hour always touching, whether it’s their feet touching under the table as they eat or what can only be called cuddling on the couch as  _ ‘Friends’  _ runs on the television not really being watched. By the time Jughead yawns, Betty is fighting to keep her eyes open. 

“I should go,” he says mid-yawn. She’s not dumb enough to not notice the deep purple bags under his eyes but Betty’s brain is currently turning on all the alarms, screeching at her to somehow make him stay. Jughead stops in his way to get up from the couch and she realises it’s because her grip on his sweater is making her knuckles turn white. “You okay?” he asks, the corners of his mouth ticking up. 

Suddenly, the rush of embarrassment fills every molecule of her body, making her frown. She leans forward, pushing her forehead against his collarbone and his arms are instantly around her. Betty can feel the light chuckle because of how his chest moves against her. Mumbling, she answers him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that, Betts,” he speaks into her hair, the amusement clear in his tone. 

“I want you to stay,” Betty says, more clearly, finally leaning back to fully look at him. His expression is stoic, inspecting every part of her face looking for something.  _ Doubt,  _ she thinks. 

Betty realised then that this might be too much for him, taking care of your ex-coworker whose sister has been missing for ten years and is now dead. The awful part of her, the part with intrusive thoughts, scream  _ he doesn’t want the burden, you’re too much work, you don’t deserve him, he’s done enough for you. _

“Hey…” Jughead says, bringing his hands to her cheeks, holding her face lovingly. Betty sees it, even through all her self-doubt, she can see the fondness in his eyes and the truth when he told her there was no other place he’d rather be. Part of this relationship, or whatever it is, is trusting him and Betty tries so hard to ignore all her fears in order to trust that he is truly doing this because he cares. She actively decides to trust him. “I’ve got no problem staying. Sleepover like last time?” 

She’s nodding quickly, grateful that he understood the meaning of her words without her actually saying  _ hey can you sleep with me? all innocently of course, but I haven’t been able to sleep an hour since I found out my sister was killed.  _ Jughead is still holding her face in his hands, he lets his thumbs caress her cheeks before leaning back and out of the couch. 

“So… bed?” he extends his hand towards her and she takes it to get up. 

They walk in the direction of her bed and she doesn’t drop his hand until she absolutely has to in order to look some clothes for him. She quickly finds the pajamas he used last time (still lingering with his scent) and hands them off to him. Jughead kissing her cheek on his way to the bathroom. 

Jughead opens the door by the time she is getting comfortable in bed. He is adorably rubbing his eyes with his fist as he puts his folded clothes on a chair nearby. The way his shoulders are slumped and his feet never really leave the floor as he walks speaks volumes about how tired he actually is. 

“You look really tired,” Betty mutters before she can stop herself. Jughead scoffs a little as he slips inside the covers and sighs happily, the way one does when you’ve been daydreaming of being in bed all day. 

“Thank you, Betts,” he chuckles, turning his head to look at her with amusement in his eyes. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Betty shoots back quickly, moving closer to him. On a whim, she reaches out to touch his face. Jughead’s eyes close immediately at the contact and she caresses the dark circles under his left eye with her thumb. “You just look like you haven’t really been sleeping at all.” 

“I’ve been working longer hours.” His voice is groggy, closed eyes and he’s never looked more beautiful in Betty’s eyes. 

She understands what he’s saying now. He’s been working longer hours not because it’s his duty, but because of her. Jughead has been probably working more hours, spending less time sleeping or even not sleeping at all so he could catch this guy and hopefully help Betty feel better, get closure. She knew the pressure the office puts on him and even more, the pressure he puts on himself. Jughead is willingly stressing himself out more  _ for her.  _ That thought clouds her eyes with tears she doesn’t let fall. 

Betty continues to caress his face for a second, his breathing slowing and becoming deeper even though she knows he’s still awake. The onslaught of her feelings is too much, too soon. She doesn’t know of a word big enough to thank him so she lets her body guide her. Leaning forward, Betty gets closer to him and places a kiss upon his lips. It’s barely a peck, more of a letting their lips feel each other’s pressure but it brings a slight gasp out of Jughead’s all the same. Somewhere, Betty realises she has closed her own eyes and when she opens them, Jughead is staring at her wide-eyed, suddenly more awake than he’s been for the past hour. 

No words are needed as they stare at each other. Betty is still holding his cheek while he looks at her. Suddenly, he’s moving. Jughead is snaking his arm around her waist and bringing his other one to her face, effectively bring her closer to him.

When their lips meet... there’s no fireworks, no mind-blowing realisations. There’s just the feeling of finally being home, like holding something that’s always supposed to be there in the first place. Her stomach is filled with metaphorical butterflies but the distinct feeling that nothing and also everything has changed is strong. Every moment has lead to this with a finality that brings nothing but comfort to her. 

Something akin to wonder fills her at the thought that maybe, if she had her way, her days from now on would be filled with his presence. The kiss is soft and short, an acknowledgement to the feelings and the meaning of it, the need to be closer to each other than they’ve been so far. When they break apart, Betty lingers close to him, unable to separate fully. His thumb is travelling back and forth on her cheek, the same way hers is, and she opens her eyes to Jughead looking adorably soft. Betty huffs a laugh at the look on his face, it turns into a chuckle when he yawns suddenly. 

“Great, laugh at the poor exhausted agent. Thank you, babe.” He narrows his eyes at her, but his mouth is curling into a small smile at her reaction. Betty’s heart skips a beat at the nickname and is about to sass back at him when he yawns again, his eyes watering. “Damn,” he says after he’s done, sighing. “Sorry.”

“Okay, time to sleep, big guy.” Betty tells him, pecking him again in what she thinks might turn into a habit really quickly. She can see herself becoming addicted to him. 

As she lays with her head on his chest, Jughead falling asleep what must be in 2 seconds flat, she thinks that he was right. 

No place she’d rather be.

 

* * *

 

She remembers watching V for Vendetta as a teenager and nodding along as V said  _ Ideas are bulletproof,  _ but not fully grasping just how truthful the statement was. 

In real life, ideas are not only bulletproof, but they’re also a germ. Once they exist, they start growing and growing, occupying places in your life and sometimes not letting you function correctly. 

You start to notice them in the smallest of ways first, connecting dots on a whim and when you want to look up, it’s everywhere. Everything has been tainted with the germ, the idea and now you can’t stop thinking about it. It’s no longer just an idea, now it’s formed and grown into a plague that’s forever poking at your brain.

It fills your lungs, changing the way you breathe. Your opinions are now laced with what if’s and everything has to do with this little thing that exists only in your brain from now. An insatiable thirst until you give up and surrender to it. 

Betty’s germ appears on a Wednesday night. 

She know she shouldn’t be doing this. She is 110% aware that doing this is masochistic and only going to make her feel like shit but still she reaches for Polly’s journals in her closet. It seems to be heavier now, or maybe it’s Betty’s brain playing tricks on her. 

There has been this itch for a few days now, to open it up again. As if she’d find a different meaning, as if these pages held closure for her. The yellow pages just make her stomach and heart twist painfully inside her chest. 

If her life had a fairy Godmother or a narrator who gave advice, it would be saying  _ there’s nothing but sadness there, girl.  _ Betty chuckles a wet sound torn between a laugh and a cry. She starts reading a couple of entries, the same ones she’s read before. The feeling she had whenever she opened this before, as if reading the memory of a ghost has never weighed on her anymore. 

Betty sniffles as she reads an entry of Polly describing Betty’s freshman year and how excited she had been. Polly speaks about being super proud of her sister, and how amazing she was going to be at school, the way she never was or didn’t really have interest in being. 

_ She never got to finish High School.  _

The intrusive thought makes a tiny sob escape. Betty puts the journal down, taking a deep breath and grabbing her phone. 

**< Would you like to come over after work? **

She sends the text before she has time to overthink it or let her intrusive thoughts mock her. Betty takes deep breaths, looking at the journal in her hands and wonders for the fifth time why she can’t stop herself from reaching for these. Her phone lights up next to her and despite the situation a small smile paints her lips, Jughead’s name on her screen. 

**_> Of course. I’m finishing around 9pm tho. _ **

**< That’s okay. I’ll wait for you and we can have dinner. **

**_> Sounds amazing. See you later, baby._ **

**< :)**

With a less heavy heart, she looks back at the journals. Jughead had that effect on her, make everything seem less heavy and since four days ago when they had kissed for the first time, they had been talking a lot more. Betty would be lying if she said she didn’t like the secretive gazes at the station and how he’d brush his hand lightly over hers if she was close or passing by. 

It was easily the only highlights of her days recently. If someone had told her months ago that she’d be reaching out to someone she liked instead of dealing with the utter sadness by herself she would’ve simply nodded at you and walked away laughing maniacally in her head, because even if Betty Cooper thought you were crazy, she’d still be nice. 

She opens the journal again.  _ Just one more entry,  _ she thinks to herself. Betty’s hands move on their own, moving to the very last date in the journal and starts reading. 

 

_ Dear Diary: _

_ I’ve been busy. Being sneaky when you’re so happy and excited is really hard. Mom doesn’t know anything still, and I don’t think she suspects anything.  _

_ Jason just called me a few minutes ago, he sounded agitated and it slightly freaked me out a little. I’m going to meet him at midnight, he said he needed to talk to me. I’m worried he might back down, we’re supposed to go in a week. Everything is ready, the car is near his cabin at the woods, the money is enough and we’re happy.  _

_ I really hope there’s nothing big going on, he sounded very upset.  _

Betty had never finished reading her sister’s journals. It felt like violating her privacy and her chest caved each time she read too much but this time she stares at this. Her last entry. Betty had hoped - not sure why- it had been a happy one.

A part of her had hoped her sister was happy before she died, but the thought soon turned sour in her mouth because what’s worse than someone who had a long life in front of them being ripped from it? 

Her eyes skim over the penmanship, so perfectly cursive, the way Alice would’ve liked it and they stop at the date.  _ July 11th.  _ Something goes off in her head, she stills, her brain going fully awake and alert searching for what was sticking out to her unconscious. 

_ July 11th… What happened July 11th ten years before? July 11th. On July 11th Polly was last seen, and she was supposed to meet… _

Jason Blossom’s death. 

Betty’s lungs exhale all oxygen in them, leaving her breathless. She frowns in confusion at the date, alarms are now going off in her brain.  _ This is important, this is important,  _ they say. It’s weird that Polly was supposed to meet Jason the same night he died. The family and press had said that Jason had been found by his mother in his room, already dead. 

_ Massive heart attack _ , they had reported. 

Betty remembers how moved the town was after his death, you could even say that it had left its permanent mark. As if Riverdale’s time had changed to be B.J.D (before Jason’s Death) and A.J.D (After Jason’s death.). At the time, though, she had been too preoccupied having a wreck of a family and a missing sister to care about other’s issues too. 

Storing Polly’s journals away, Betty got up and grabbed her laptop, powering it up on the kitchen table.  _ Jason Blossom death,  _ she types on the browser. A gazillion results show, and she remembers then, being angry because at the time nobody cared about Polly, all they could talk about was Jason Blossom dying and how terrible that was, Betty briefly wonders if perhaps the situation was different Polly would still be alive. 

She shakes her head, trying to get rid of the sour thought but it lingers in the back of her mind. As she reads and reads, Betty gets more confused.

_...Jason Blossom (17) died late last night from a massive heart attack...  _

_ … Football star Jason Blossom dead from a massive heart attack this past 11 of July… _

_... Heir of the Blossom family, Jason Blossom, dies from a massive heart attack… _

The longer she reads, she realises she’s not actually gathering any information at all. It’s always the same: Talking about how amazing and powerful the Blossoms are, how Jason died from a heart attack and the lost of what might’ve been a bright future.

She stares, confused at the screen, she’s never read so many articles that talked so much and yet said nothing in the end. She’s read about important people passing away in the diaries, and they always had more to say. In these articles, the ME wasn’t even mentioned. Sometimes even the full autopsy records leaked out, but this case seemed to be sealed shut.

It bothered her, she realised, as she shifted in her chair. The little alarms in her head, there from years as an officer and even more time as someone generally inquisitive, are still alert, a low humming that won’t rest. Along with them, the what ifs start appearing, her mind going into detective mode. 

Betty can feel her focus and energy shifting. She grabs a piece of paper and writes some stuff to remind her to research. Looking back at the screen, she sighs. 

“Please just let me be nuts,” Betty mutters to herself. 

She lets the idea fill her, though. Until it’s in every part of her, the intuition screaming  _ yes yes yes finally.  _ She knows she will regret not following this hunch. 

_ I’ve got nothing to lose,  _ she thinks.  _ My sister is already dead.  _

The knock on the door is loud, making Betty jump in her seat. Quickly she closes the browser search and puts the piece of paper she had been writing in away. Her feet carry her to the door, mind still reeling and heart still pumping from her scare seconds ago. Looking through the peephole, she sighs in relief. 

“You scared me, I was deep in thought,” Betty says, opening the door. 

“Hey, you,” Jughead replies, smiling down at her as he takes a step closer effectively eliminating the space between them. Betty moves aside for him to enter the apartment so she can close the door. As she does, she doesn’t tear her eyes from his. Jughead leans forward, pressing his lips softly to hers for a few seconds. 

_ Well, maybe I do have something to lose,  _ she thinks sadly. Still Betty curls her arms around his neck because her brain has already made her choice for her and when she gets this way about an  _ idea  _ there’s no way she’s gonna back down. Hopefully she’s wrong, hopefully at the end of the day she will tell Jughead and they’ll laugh at her nonsense. 

“Hey baby, you okay?” he asks, softly to her ear, rubbing her back comfortingly. Betty leans back, looking deep into his eyes. The fondness, and dare she hope love, in there makes her warm to the tip of her toes. She pecks his lips, smiling at his sigh. 

“I am now,” she whispers against his lips. “I promised food but I got too lost in my head. How do you feel about pizza?”

 

* * *

 

The next day, Betty walks quickly after entering the station, not even stopping at her desk first. The walk to the morgue is short and filled with the buzzing inside her head. Step by step, she gets more nervous, as if she’s getting closer to something she’s not quite ready for. She has come to appreciate her instincts, but it’s times like these when her stomach is in knots over mere ideas that she’s totally wishing are only crazy theories her mourning brain is producing… she wishes she had an off button. 

As she opens the door, Veronica is leaning over one of the examination tables, staring at a wall and slowly drinking her coffee, it makes her smile. 

“Rough night?” Betty asks her, smiling as Veronica jumps a little, apparently not having heard her coming in.

“Hey B… yeah, insomnia hit again. How are you?” Veronica puts the coffee down and steps closer to hug Betty. She returns the hug gladly, even if she’s buzzing with nerves and anxiety. It’s a bit of a relief, the weight of Veronica’s arms around her even for just a few seconds. 

“I’m good. Uhm… I actually came in to ask you for a favor.” It sounds more like a question the way Betty says it, making a jest at the end that’s caught between a grimace and a  _ please please please  _ smile. 

“No rest for the wicked, huh? Shoot.” Veronica makes a  _ come hither  _ motion with both hands before grabbing her coffee again. Betty takes the deepest of breaths, gathering courage and blurts it out.

“I need you to access Jason Blossom’s autopsy records.” 

Veronica coughs, sending drops of coffee flying into the air. Betty winces at her reaction, watching as Veronica gains control of her lungs again.

“What the fuck Betty?” Veronica wheezes, glaring at her. She looks down on her labcoat, checking to see if it was splattered. “I might need to check my ears, I thought you said you needed me to somewhat illegally access an autopsy record of Riverdale’s long dead golden child…”

“I know, I know.” Betty starts, moving closer and grabbing her friends arms in her hands. “V, when did Jason die?” 

“Uhm… July?” Veronica answers, a wary look in her eyes. 

“I’ve got Polly’s journals, her last entry was on the 11th of July, she was supposed to meet Jason at midnight. The same night he died, my sister was with him. I need to figure out where was she when her mother found him in his room,” Betty said, pleading at Veronica to hear her out.

“Are you serious?” Veronica asks, shocked. Betty feels a bit of relief, Veronica is listening to her and not automatically thinking she’s nuts. 

“I wouldn’t lie about this, Veronica,” Betty assures her. “The last entry of her journal said that Jason had seemed nervous and that she’d hoped everything was okay with him. I checked every newspaper and every website, they all have very little information about his murder and keep repeating the same things. I… I know I’m not completely okay.” Veronica’s eyes soften at her words, pursing her lips. “But if there’s any chance that this will take me one foot closer to finding what really happened to my sister… I have to do this, V.” 

Veronica is silent as she stares at her. Betty lets it all show, her hurt, desperation and anxiety all shine through her eyes as she waits for an answer. She really needs this, Betty needs the closure… even if it means searching for tiny clues in weird places. 

“This is the weirdest thing you’ve ever asked of me…” Veronica tells her and Betty deflates, taking a step back and bracing for rejection. “But I’ve known you for years and your instinct has never once failed. I know better than to not trust you, whatever you need girl… even if it’s illegal.”

“Oh, V!” Betty hugs her friend, bouncing on her toes from excitement.  _ How weird is it that she’s this happy over this?  _ “Thank you so much. I owe you. Mani-Pedis at Sofi’s.”

“You speak my language, chica,” Veronica replies, smiling and pinching Betty’s left cheek with her fingers. “Okay, it’s an old file so it’ll probably be sealed. I’m going to have to pull some strings but I think I can have it by lunch today.” 

“You’re the best friend ever,” Betty tells her, grabbing the raven-haired girl and putting a big noisy kiss on her forehead. 

One would think that waiting until lunch would not be a lot but by the time it’s 40 minutes till lunch time, Betty is staring at the clock practically counting the seconds. 

She’s spent the rest of the morning torn between doing paperwork and pretending to do paperwork. Words and numbers no longer hold meaning to her, and if she got really creative, she could read Jason’s name all over them. Funny how time slows until it’s torture when all you want is for it to hurry the fuck up. 

**> The eagle is in the nest. I’ve always wanted to say that ha. In other unrelated news, I’ve still got game, all I had to do was move my eyelashes and smile. **

That was the text Veronica had sent her an hour and a half ago. Since then Betty had been unable to focus on anything but her rampant onslaught of thoughts. It was as if her brain was playing lightning round with itself, not letting her think of anything else… even if she desperately wished she could. 

Betty was extremely relieved that Jughead was not in the station until after lunch, she was completely sure if she saw him, she’d crumble and spill everything. Her foot bounced repeatedly off the ground, trying to get rid of her nerves. An staccato that pretty much matched the rapid beating of her heart.  _ Time is a moron,  _ Betty thinks sourly. 

She basically jumps out of her seat when her phone buzzes 40 minutes later. Betty had been staring at her screen in an effort to actually really work when she gets the message.

**> B, come to the morgue asap. **

Betty frowns at Veronica’s message but got up instantly and made her way to the morgue. She spends the short walk doing breathing exercises to calm down. Keeping it cool after getting this sort of message had never been her forte. Sometimes with her it felt like it was “Panic now, ask questions later” kind of thing. Maybe the over-achiever and people-pleaser chip set she had been injected with as a child had never truly faded away. 

“Veronica?” Betty calls as soon as she opens the door to the morgue. The raven haired girl was nowhere to be seen. 

“In the office!” Veronica’s yell comes a little muffled and echoed in the cold and grey morgue. 

Betty moves in direction to the office, still taking deep breaths. 

“You okay? You kinda scared me with that text,” Betty tells her friend. Veronica is looking down at some papers. Not some papers, Jason Blossom’s autopsy reports, Betty realizes as she gets closer. “Are those..”

“Yes.” Veronica mutters. “Betty, I know I said your instincts never let me down but… this is very weird.” She finally looks up, there’s concern in her eyes as she scoots over to let Betty see the papers too.

“What is?” Betty starts reading a little of the reports. Everything looks okay as far as her knowledge goes. 

“See this here?” Veronica says, pointing somewhere in the paper. “This is not what you write if someone dies from a massive heart attack. The symptoms and the death cause don’t match. It’s like someone started writing this report thinking of a stroke but remembered it was the heart halfway through it.”

Betty’s heart is beyond racing, right now. She shuts her eyes for a second, letting both the relief and fear wash over her. She didn’t want to be right, honestly, she didn’t. 

“And some areas are just filled almost haphazardly. I mean, maybe it’s not obvious to a cop, but if you’re an ME truly reading, you can see the red flags all over this document.” Veronica’s eyes are wide, concern turning into fear. “B… I’m not so sure Jason died from a heart attack to be honest.”

“What’s the name of the ME who wrote this?” Betty asks.

“Charles Brauer.” 

“Charles Brauer, Charles Brauer, Charles Brauer.” Betty repeats, the name ringing several bells in her ears. 

“Are you trying to make him appear like Bloody Mary? I think that only works if it’s on a bathroom mirror,” Veronica half mutters to herself. 

“No, Veronica. I’m not trying to summon anything, I’m just sure I heard that name before.” Betty snaps her fingers trying to bring the memory to life. “Do you have your laptop here?”

“Sure. Here…”

Betty grabs the laptop and sits across from Veronica, instantly bringing up the browser. She googles the name and the bells stop. 

“Shit,” she curses softly. 

“What?” Veronica is already turning around the desk to stand next to Betty and stare at the screen. 

**… CHARLES BRAUER is the newly proclaimed chief of medicine of the soon to be opened Hospital that has been so kindly built by the Blossom family…**

“Well, I’m no Nancy Drew but that shit’s suspicious,” Veronica says and if there was any other situation Betty would’ve laughed or at least chuckled. 

The air feels heavy, there’s a lead weight in her sternum and she’s cursing at her intuition with everything she is. She wishes she could’ve go on with her ignorance, just trying to get over the fact that her sister was murdered…

_ Ideas are bulletproof,  _ she remembers suddenly.

Betty only hopes that she doesn’t end up getting caught in the crossfire.

 

* * *

 

The next week happens in a sort of atemporal horror show. A permanent parade of her nightmares and insecurities.

There are times that Betty is no longer sure if she’s having a nightmare or she’s awake. She handles those moments by tightening her arms around Jughead as they hug, trying to memorize his scent and the texture of his hair. He’s her anchor now, in a way nobody has ever been… Jughead has taken a place in her life where he’s the first one she’ll reach out to whenever she needs comfort. 

This is a double-edged sword when you’re actively keeping the truth from that one person that makes you feel like you won’t break apart the next second. Still, she moves forward. 

Betty feels as if she’s looking at the world through a kaleidoscope, it’s all too fragmentized to make any sense of it. It’s like opening your eyes and realising that you’ve been living in a nuthouse your whole life. The colorful parts clash with the dull black and white, other parts are so cracked and splintered that they no longer form a shape that she recognizes. This is the new way she sees the world, a turmoil of things she doesn’t understand and that tiny bright spot just in the middle. 

The first time she feels the glass cracking is on Tuesday evening. 

She tightens her sweater around herself, unable to get warm, and pours herself another glass of wine. The laptop is open on her kitchen table with photos of the ID sketches they had on the case. Her beverage does very little to soothe her nerves and she briefly wonders if she should switch to the bottle of vodka she had never opened but instantly turns the thought down. 

Betty chews her bottom lip a few moments before googling websites that can age a person via a picture.  _ Rock bottom, meet Betty Cooper,  _ she thinks sourly even though she’s pretty sure rock bottom remembers her from previous visits. It takes four different pages until one gives her results that are more believable. 

_ This is the pinnacle of investigation right here.  _

The glass of wine is refilled as Betty glares at the screen. Side by side there’s multiple files opened with what should be Jason Blossom’s digitally aged face. She would feel ridiculous _ (To be honest, she does feel that way a little)  _ if the possible resemblance wasn’t so striking. The sketches show a person with a scruff that really resemblances Jason if he had facial hair. The shape of the nose and jaw are the same, the full lips are still there and the hair… the hair was brown, but it could easily be dyed from his natural shade of diabolic red. 

“Oh no,” Betty mutters, placing the glass on the table before it slips from her fingers. Her life is turning soap-opera enough that she doesn’t need to drop glasses onto the floor.

_ The red angel of death.  _

That’s what the crazy old man had said. _ You used to go everywhere with him. _

“He thought I was Polly,” she whispers to no one in particular.

There’s not a sound in the apartment but she feels the glass inside of her drop and crash. It scatters all around her veins, filling them with icy resolve. How could she not have seen it? He had been almost explicit when he had talked. Sure, he seemed insane but apparently he knew what he has talking about. 

Betty had alway been told that she looked very similar to Polly. There was even a time where her own mother would mistake their voices on the phone. When Polly had disappeared, people continued to tell her so, sometimes staring at her as if she was a ghost herself and not a real person. 

She had hated it with every part of her being, the unspoken pressure to be the perfected version of her older sister. Even her parents would call her Polly from time to time, followed by a silence and extensive apologies on their parts. 

Polly’s absence had been a ghost of its own. 

It had had a shape and it took a space bigger than any of them had imagined in the house. It still did, Betty could feel it melting into her daily life now, a void that would never be filled in the webs of her reality. 

She takes a deep breath. 

And another one. 

Her apartment seemed to shrink on her as the possibilities grown and twist into ugly demons. It’s like re-enacting a personalised version of Scrooge and the ghosts of Christmas past, the weight of the facts are heavy in her head as she processes the different outcomes this might have, the different theories and possibilities that had come to life in a wicked way. 

She had trained to know how to deal with different situations and it had carried her through some rough times in her life but as she looks at the pictures on her screen there’s the distinct feeling of desolation and  _ loss  _ inside of her.  

“Please, just…” Betty whispers into her apartment.  _ This… this is truly rock bottom,  _ she thinks. “I need to know if I’m not fucking my whole life up for this…”

The void doesn’t answer.

 

* * *

 

The house is old and not really taken care of. There’s weeds and long grass on the outside, but considering what’s inside of it, Betty couldn’t really judge it. 

She had clocked in at work and spent about an hour researching, trying to find anything about the crazy old man from that day. She knew his name was Robert and he lived at least in a 5 block radius from the victim’s house. 

It had been very hard to not cheer when she had finally gotten a match. The address had already been entered a few times in the station, mostly about noise complaints. Betty cringed, wondering if she should really trust the word of someone who could rival the Mad Hatter in craziness. 

Still, she’s there. Staring at the house and gathering the courage to knock on the door. A part of her had been continuously yelling at her to stop being insane and not follow this direction anymore. The other, more prominent, part of her was using pure fire as fuel and it felt as if nothing would stop her until she got her answers. 

Clinging to that part of herself, she walks over and rings the doorbell before she has any moment to hesitate and go back to her car. Betty clears her throat and sighs, trying to not think of all the rules she’s breaking. 

“Hello?” The same woman who picked the old man up answers the door, a frown on her face, framing her tired eyes. “How may I help you?”

“Good Morning, Ma’am. I’m Detective Cooper and I was wondering if you’d be okay with me asking Robert some questions… off the record. I promise he’s not in any trouble,” she asks and the woman’s frown deepens, looking behind Betty for a moment. 

“Is this about Mrs. Jeffords’ noise complaint? I tried to explain to her about his bad days, we got him better medication, I swear,” the woman says, pleading Betty with her eyes. She knows this woman has no energy left to fight anymore… at least for today. 

“No, no. It’s about another investigation. Would you mind?” 

“Okay…” She lets her in, even if the expression on her face is still wary. “I’m Karen, by the way. I’m not sure how much you’ll get out of him, though… he’s not very chatty today.”

“You’re a relative?” Betty asks her as they walk to where Robert must be. 

“Oh no, I’m hired by his son. I’m one of Robert’s personal nurses,” Karen explains, giving Betty a small smile. 

They reach the backyard and Betty can see Robert sitting under the shade of a big tree, watching the sky. He looks mesmerized and pensive, though both of those are cut abruptly when he sees her. 

“Robert, you’ve got company. Detective Cooper is here to see you.” 

“I know a Cooper when I see one, Karen,” Robert answers, dismissing her with a nod. 

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything,” the nurse whispers to Betty, who nods at her before she makes her way out of the backyard. 

“Hello Mr. Viera,” Betty starts, producing her most charming smile. Robert looks at her stoically for a few seconds before the smallest of ticks lifts up the corner of his mouth. 

“Hello Miss Cooper. Alone, I see…”  

“Yes. I’m here to ask you some questions about a few weeks ago. Do you remember talking to me?” she asks, getting a little closer to him. Robert stares at her for a few seconds. 

“Of course, Dear Polly, how could I not?” The name makes her blood freeze all over.  _ I was right… shit, I was right.  _ There’s not a single ounce of glory in this affirmation. 

“See… Mr. Viera, I’m not Polly.” 

“Are you calling me a liar?” he asks, looking affronted. Robert scoffs, looking away. “Come into my house and calling me a liar, the nerve…”

“I’m not calling you a liar, Mr. Viera. Simply… I’m Polly’s sister, Betty,” she explains and starts looking for the pictures she brought. She feels like she’s failing miserably at handling him with care in order to get the answers she needs. 

“I didn’t know she had a sister,” Robert says, his eyes flying all over Betty’s face. Finally she finds the picture of Polly and her, showing it to him. Something akin to recognition crosses his features. “Oh…”

“Yes, she’s my sister. I noticed the last time you might’ve confused me with her. You were talking about someone…someone she was sometimes with?” Betty’s voice is hesitant as Robert inspects the photo. It’s like he’s watching a tennis match, going from one face to the other, gathering every little detail. Betty feels the need to squirm in her feet. 

“Not someone… the devil himself, little girlie.” There’s that glint in his eyes again. Betty refrains from wincing. 

“Is this...him?” Betty lifts both an ID sketch and a picture of Jason Blossom just before he ‘died’.

“You  _ know  _ who he is!” His voice is a little raised but Betty stays put. There’s a million of things going around in his eyes before he takes a deep breath and really looks at the pictures. “Sorry, you’re so much like your sister…”

“I get that a lot, that’s okay.” Betty’s voice is only big enough for him to listen, a soothing tone in it as she waits for his answer. Mr. Viera inspects the picture a little more, his lips pursing together.

“Yes. That’s Jason Blossom.” A part of her wants to cry at the words, the confirmation of a madman being so heavy in her lungs. She lets the smallest sigh escape her lips, trying to calm down. 

“I’m sorry to ask this but… are you sure? What did he look like when you saw him?” Betty persists, willing to get all the information from him. Robert’s eyes seemed clearer, a thread of sanity in them… so thin and volatile. 

“He looked old. Scruffy. But I recognized him, especially with all the blood on him. Oh yes.”  _ From the fight,  _ she gathers. He had blood on himself from beating that man up. “I was just looking out my window, pretending to listen to Karen when I see him. Walking slowly as if he didn’t really have a thing in the world to worry about.”

“How do you know it was him?” Betty feels her veins caught on fire at this information once more. She needs him to tell her at least 500 times more he’s sure it was him. 

“I would recognize the devil everywhere, kid.” Her time has run out, it seems. Betty deflates as Robert’s expression shifts into something insane and mean, she sighs, putting the photos back. “You would know, you spent a lot of time frolicking with him. At his side like a hell slut, waiting to please him.”

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Viera,” Betty tells him, eager to get out now. 

Mr. Viera keeps talking as she walks away, her hands have a slight tremble to them and she does the best to hide her real feelings until she’s out of the house. Karen is peacefully drinking a cup of tea in the kitchen when she enters. 

“Everything okay?” Karen asks. 

“Sure. He wasn’t so chatty, to be honest. Uhm.. thank you for your hospitality. I have everything I need.” 

As soon as she’s out the door, a tear involuntarily slips from her eyes. A sob follows next, it’s being teared from the center of her chest before she can reel it in. She shakes with the force and hates herself for being too weak and emotional. 

“Get a grip, get a grip,” she mutters to herself as she gets into her car. 

She’s smart enough to know not to drive like this, so she waits. She waits until she’s able to control her emotions. Betty imagines a wall being built, its pace matches her breathing. In and out. In and out. It takes a few tries but she’s able to breathe again. 

Getting her phone, she calls the station and tells her boss she won’t be coming back after lunch hour. She claims she’s feeling sick and she just threw up, in reality… she’s really close to. 

How does one internally deal with being right and wanting to be wrong? How could she ever deal with the fact that her instincts are telling her to go right and her brain is yelling left? Betty knew this whole investigation was making herself nuts. 

_ Just like Robert,  _ she thought bitingly. 

Betty drove off as soon as she knew she could manage it safely. Trying to keep her head on the road ahead instead of the obvious places it wants to go. She refrains. Betty thinks of the tight way her fingers are gripping the steering wheel to keep herself in the present. How methodic her breathing is, the low hum of the car beneath her feet, the disturbingly upbeat song sounding on the radio. 

It’s enough for her to reach her house. She’s tightly wound when she does, her muscles groaning when she lets go of the steering wheel. The thoughts are there, menacing, waiting for her to give them the space they need. It’s like a storm pending over her head, darkening a part of her vision with the knowledge that it is there and it will come. 

It’s as soon as she steps out of her car that it happens, they fall upon her like bricks. Hitting her consciousness harder and harder each time. 

_ Of course it was him. _

_ How could I miss it?  _

_ No one else had been close to get to hurt her.  _

_ He had used her remains to throw her off.  _

_ What the hell had happened to him to become such a horrifying monster?  _

_ Does Cheryl know?  _

_ Everything matches. It could totally be him.  _

_ At the same time, It’s the word of a madman against one of the richest families in the town.  _

_ The autopsy reports won’t be enough.  _

_ How could I make it enough?  _

“Hey, Betts.” Jughead’s voice is like a bucket of cold water being thrown at her face. Betty stops in her place and looks at him, he’s standing next to her apartment door. “Uhm… the doorman let me in.”

“Hi… I… what are you doing here?” She’s still rooted in place. She had been so caught up on her own misery that having Jughead here seems strange. Out of place. Jughead bites his lower lip before talking. 

“I was talking with Sheriff Keller when you called in sick. I thought I’d swing by and see how-”Jughead stops himself, frowning and taking a step closer to her. “You’ve been crying.” It’s not an accusatory tone, it’s a fact but one that carries an undertone of concern that melts her walls melt against her will. 

“I’m okay, really,” she tells him, smiling and it actually feels like a grimace. Betty takes a step back, which Jughead sees with utmost observation. She opens the door to her apartment and leaves the door open, she even thinks she can hear a tiny sigh. 

“Why did you call in sick then?” he asks, closing the door behind him. 

“I caught a stomach bug at lunch.” She proceeds to take her coat off, next are her boots. Methodical.

“Why are you lying?” he asks, quickly.

“I’m not. I felt bad, called in and here I am. I was about to take a nap,” Betty tells him, her back is still to him, she’s not sure she’ll be able to look at him in the eye and lie. Her hand shakes a little when she reaches for a glass of water. 

He gets closer, his footsteps resonate in the hardwood floor. His warmth sends a thrill down her spine and she gets goosebumps. Her throat closes as his arms wrap around her middle, turning her so she’s facing him. Betty is sure there are tears in her eyes when she looks up. His expression is soft and god, those eyes. 

“Baby, what’s going on?” he whispers only loud enough for her to hear him. 

Betty sighs, looking all over his face. The hourglass’s had been tipped over from the start and it has finally come to an end.  She can almost see the last grain of sand falling down, cementing her choices and destiny. Betty bites her lower lip, what if he hates her or reports her? He’d be right to do so but… she looks into his eyes for a second more, grasping every little detail just in case it’s the last time and leans forward to press her lips against his. Jughead responds in kind, his hand flying to her jaw, thumb travelling back and forth. It’s a soft kiss that, to her, tastes like hope and goodbyes. She’s clinging onto the first one and her trust in him that her next words don’t finish shattering her world apart. She leans back, separating herself from him a few steps. He looks both dazed and wary. 

“I have been lying,” Betty blurts out, quickly like ripping off a Band-Aid. Jughead’s head snaps back, confusion clear on his face. 

“Okay… about what?” he asks, way too stoic. He’s frowning and his fingers are twitching at his sides. She lightly curses herself for knowing his tells. 

“I’ve been… researching my sister’s murder,” she says, “On my own.” It’s a weight that’s been lifted from her chest, the words leaving her mouth are a relief even as Jughead’s eyes widen a fraction. 

“What?” Jughead asks, dumbfounded. “You’re investigating? Betty, that’s part of an ongoing federal investigation!”

“That is also my sister’s murder. My sister, Jughead.” Betty points at her chest while she speaks. It’s coming all bubbling up, unstoppable. Jughead passes his hand through his hair, pulling at it. 

“Baby, I know. I’m sorry but you know procedure. The rules are there for a reason.” Jughead steps closer to her, his eyes are pleading and she knows this is a conversation he absolutely does not want to have. 

“Juggie, I need you shut up about rules and listen to me. I think I know who the killer is.” 

That shuts him up alright, his whole body goes tunt. Betty is pretty sure he stopped breathing altogether and lowers himself into the nearest chair. She waits until the shock fades away and he nods, this barely perceptible movement of his head, before she talks. 

“I have my sister’s journals. I even had the last entry she wrote. The other way I was masochistically going through them and her last entry is on the 11th of July, saying she’d meet Jason Blossom at midnight. He had called her asking her to meet him,” she starts as Jughead migrates to sit on one of the kitchen chairs to listen to her with attention. “Jughead, Jason Blossom died on the 11th of July, a massive heart attack. That’s what the media said anyway. The police report. Everything. The Blossoms are one of the richest and most powerful families of Riverdale. So I wondered, how come she was supposed to meet him at midnight but no one saw her in the mansion when he was apparently found dead by his mother around that time of the night? I talked to Veronica and asked her if she could take a look at Jason’s autopsy records-”

“You-” Jughead starts but Betty gives him a look and he closes his mouth, signaling at her to go on. 

“Veronica says the files are all wrong. Measurements and symptoms that don’t exactly match with the apparent cause of death. A sealed last page that she couldn’t get access to and it’s all signed by Charles Brauer.” she explains. 

“I’ve heard that name before.” Jughead mutters, frowning. 

“That’s because he’s the new chief of medicine in the soon to be opened new Hospital that’s basically being paid for in full by the Blossoms.” Something shines in Jughead’s eyes as she speaks, it resemblances pride. 

“You think they bought him off,” he states. 

“Exactly.” Betty points at him before grabbing her purse and taking out the pictures and files that she had taken to Mr. Viera’s house. “So he either died from weird covered causes or he’s not dead at all. I looked some stuff up and then I remembered that old man that insulted me that day the killer fucked up.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he mutters darkly, his lips pursing together in anger. She’d think it was cute if the situation was different.

“He kept on talking about red devils, at first obviously I thought he was mad but then I remembered Jason is a redhead. Or maybe  _ was _ a redhead.” She punctuates her theory by showing Jughead Jason’s photo. He takes it, examining it. “I went to his house today, at first he thought I was Polly but then I showed him this picture and.. Jughead, I swear to you he had this moment of clarity where he told me he was looking out the window and Jason was walking down the street covered in blood.” 

“Betty, this is the word of a madman…” 

“I know, I know, but… the profile fits. His age, he could totally dye his hair. Look at this ID sketch and tell me it doesn’t look like a scruffy grown up version of Jason Blossom.” Betty tells him, handing him two of the ID sketches. Jughead places them on the kitchen table, his shoulders tightly wound up. It’s a few seconds later that he pulls at this hair before looking back at her. 

“I had someone once told me they heard one of the victims talking to a Jason once. But then there was another one saying Jack and then another name so we never really pursued it.” Jughead says, rubbing his lower lip with his fingers in a nervous move. 

They stay in silence watching the pictures for a while. Letting the information sink in. Betty knows it might not be enough but… in her heart, she can feel this is the right path to follow. 

“What is your gut telling you?” Jughead asks her suddenly, still looking at the ID sketches. 

“Juggie… my gut has been screaming at me over this for days. I mean, even if he really is dead, they must know something about my sister.” She practically begs him to understand, sitting next to him at the kitchen table and taking his hand. “I’m sorry I lied to you but… I needed to do this on my own and you couldn’t help. It would get you into trouble or maybe even risk your position on the task force.” Jughead looks at her finally, swallowing heavily whatever emotional conundrum she’s bounced on him.  

“This is enough to grant you at least an interview with the Blossoms, Betts,” Jughead tells her. It makes her heart explode and there’s a small smile on her lips that she cannot stop. The relief that maybe there’s this small chance that she’s not completely nuts. “As to the lying part… I wish you hadn’t, but I understand why you felt you had no choice.” He pauses then and looks searchingly at her face before he lifts his fingers to her cheek, “Just… uhm, don’t kiss me like it’s goodbye again. Preferably ever,” he says softly, pausing once more and looking like he had more to say, “but that’s a discussion for another day.” 

The next thing she knows, she’s straddling his lap and taking his face in her hands. She kisses him not only as a hello, but as a thank you and as a promise. Betty pours everything she feels into that kiss, the calm she gets from him and the way her heart jumps whenever their hands touch. It’s a wish, because kissing him like it might be the last time hurt her too. Once they separate, they stay only so far away as they can to look into each other’s eyes. Jughead’s hands are on her waist, gripping her tightly. 

“I’m really looking forward to that discussion,” she tells him, caressing his jaw with her thumb.

“Me too,” he replies, leaning his forehead against hers for a second. He pecks her lips one last time and moves to get up, lifting her from his lap and placing her feet on the floor. “Okay, put your boots on, we’ve got to talk to the Blossoms.”

“Now?” Betty asks incredulously, even though she’s already moving to put her boots on again. 

“No time like the present, Betts, Come on.”

 

* * *

 

Jughead drives them to Thornhill, by the time they get there it’s barely 4pm. The short trip toward the sprawling mansion had been silent. Betty was nervous, days of her mind running this investigation non-stop were about to find some sort of resolution. Either way, she was about to face the dragons themselves. Betty isn’t sure she’s ready to slay them, if she’s being honest. 

“Well, they certainly have the money to buy off some ME.” Jughead observes, looking at the huge mansion. Betty has to agree, the place was certainly ostentatious.  

They walk the remaining footsteps and Jughead is about to knock on the door when Betty stops him. The door is ajar, she sees. Jughead’s eyes are locked on that too, the gears are shifting and they’re no longer in a relaxed situation. 

As soon as Betty opens her mouth to speak, they hear a scream. Not just a scream, Betty has heard only a few of these in her life, it’s this horrifying sound filled with sorrow and pain that threatens to leave a permanent imprint in her ears. 

“Shit,” Jughead growls, taking his gun out, Betty does the same and then, after a short nod, they’re entering the house, clearing each room as they go toward the sound. The place is even more expensive looking from the inside, at least what she sees in the little seconds she can. 

There’s a faint sound of crying they follow, a woman’s crying to be exact. It doesn’t take them too far, only to the living room area. The first thing she sees is plastic on the floor and then...

Jason Blossom, holding a knife to his own mother’s throat. 

It freezes her for a second before she manages to catch herself, gun aiming at them. He looks like a hybrid of the ID sketches and what her memory remembers him to be. His hair is indeed dyed brown but the root are clearly an overgrown furious red. He’s skinny and tall, a scruff well on its way to becoming a full-blown beard on his face. Overall, she probably wouldn’t look twice at him on the street, but the beast within him shined through his eyes. Even in the distance, she could see the insanity. It chilled her to the bone. 

“We’re with the FBI. I will need you to lower your weapon, sir,” Jughead says,his tone grave,  pointing at Jason with his gun. Betty is painfully aware of their little to no protection and her hand itches to call for backup. 

“Well, well, well... Look what we have here. Little Betty Cooper, you haven’t changed a bit.” Jason’s voice is gruff and a bit hoarse. Penelope is crying in front of him. He’s holding a knife tightly to her throat as she’s tied to a chair. Jughead and Betty slowly move around the room, each taking a step closer and that’s when she sees it. Clifford Blossom’s dead body lying on the ground, the pool of blood growing rapidly beneath him. Betty swallows quickly.  _ Well, on the brightside… I was right. _

“Jason, I need you to lower your weapon.” Betty’s not sure how she managed to sound so firm and confident but she’s proud of herself for being so steady. 

“I don’t think so, Betty. Such a nice coincidence you showed up, I was just talking about your family with these devils. Don’t their meatsuits look amazing?” Jason grabs his mother’s hair and pulls, exposing more of her neck and nicking her skin in the process. A drop of blood slides down her neck and she whimpers. “I’m not surprised Satan would make it this long, but man… They weren’t even that modest about it.”

Betty internally winces at the obvious path of his insanity. Thinking back to her original religious killer theory. It should be gratifying to know that she was right even at the beginning, but at the same time she never thought she’s see this. Ever. 

“Jason…” Jughead starts. 

“ _ YOU _ SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Jason yells at Jughead. Betty can see from the corner of her eye a muscle tick in his jaw as he restrains himself. “I’m talking to my pretty Cooper over here. Little Betty. Did you know you were almost my sister? I had this feeling we’d see each other again. Did you like the gift I left you?” 

“What gift?” she asks, trying to follow his game and trying to keep him talking. She needed to calm him down, or at least distract him enough for her or Jughead to get a shot. 

“Your sister’s bones, of course. I mean, you’re lucky I didn’t burn them those years ago. You should be grateful, you sinner bitch. That was me being merciful and kind.” Jason suddenly laughs, a complete contrast with his venomous words. “I’ve got to admit though, that I did do  it to rile you up a little bit too. It worked fantastically, you should’ve seen yourself crying. A beautiful sight.” 

“Jason…” Jughead’s restrained voice says, as if he’s using every molecule in his body not to turn Jason into a human version of a strainer. 

“I believe I told you to shut the fuck up a few seconds ago. Are you not familiar with the concept? It involves you not talking,” Jason retaliates, sarcasm and disgust dripping from his voice. “Figures one of your dumb kind would be involved with a Cooper. I used to be like you, loved to roll the sheets with them. They’re firey, you know? They carry the sin in their blood, just like I do but… they don’t care about it. My mission is to remove the biggest sinners from this earth, so Betty… thank you so much for coming in today. You’re really making my job easier.” 

“How could you kill my sister? You were a couple.” Betty asks. 

“Oh, man.  _ You were a couple _ ,she says. So innocent. It’s one of my proudest moments as a human being, Betty.” Jason tells her, no warmth in his tone whatsoever. “I’d do it all over again, in fact, wouldn’t it be ironic if I bashed your pretty brains in too?” 

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Jughead growls, taking another step towards the deranged man. 

“Okay, buddy,” Jason spits, pointing his knife at Jughead before speaking. “You’re really starting to piss-”

With the knife away from Penelope’s throat, Jughead took the shot. It lands near Jason’s clavicle, the impact surprising him as the strength of the impact pushes him back a few steps and then down on the ground. Blood starts dripping from his mouth and falls to the floor. 

Betty keeps her gun pointed toward the other man, covering Jughead as he holsters his gun and moves closer to where Jason lays to handcuff him. 

He pats his pants, trying to find his phone, she realises. Betty’s focus is on the present, on the way she’s holding her gun, not taking her eyes from Jason’s form. She has this little thought that sends a shiver down her spine, how simple it would be to finish unloading her ammo on his fragile looking body on the floor. She could pull the trigger and be done with it. 

Betty shakes the thought from her head, knowing that killing him would not bring her closure. It would only make her feel miserable. It’s seconds later that she will regret not making that decision. Jason is suddenly half up, intercepting Jughead as he was about to kick the knife from his hand. With it, he stabs Jughead in the thigh, catching him completely off guard. As Jughead’s leg gives out from the wound, Jason stands, grabbing Jughead with him. Placing him in front of his chest as a human shield, arm tightly wrapped around the agent’s neck. 

It’s almost a rookie movie, how this happened. Something you’d see in movies, but this is not a cinematic experience. This is real life where Jason Blossom is using a person Betty cares about in his arms as a human shield. This is Jason Blossom threatening to take away another person from Betty and that freaks her out immensely. 

“Let go of him,” Betty shouts, desperation rising in her veins as she watches Jason’s smug face. “Drop your weapon to the floor right now or I’ll shoot.”

“So susceptible and emotional, Betty. Just like your sister.” Jason clicks his tongue at her. “Your little boyfriend pissed me off, I think I’ll have to kill him first just because he’s getting in the way of my mission. You’re no better than these disgusting sinners, pal.”

“Jason, let go of him,” Betty repeats, taking a step closer. Jughead has his lips pursed in anger and pain. 

“You know what? I was going to let you down easy. I wasn’t going to kill you slowly, because you were just as tricked as I am. You’ve devoted your life to justice, just like I have. You follow the law, I follow God. We’re similar, you and I. Your sister couldn’t see that when I asked her to abort that little demon spawn.” Jason spits the last sentence as if it’s foul. 

“What did you just say?” Betty asks, out of breath, her heart pounding in her ears. Jughead’s eyes are wide on her but she’s, for a second, so shocked she forgets where she is. 

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Jason taunts her. “Dear little Polly got pregnant, yeah. She came to tell me that the night I killed her. Little did she know what what was growing inside her was the Antichrist itself. My own family kept from the the fact that we’re related, can you even imagine? Related, the ultimate sin. I would not stand for that.” 

As Jason speaks vehemently, Betty’s eyes drift to Jughead, who’s intently looking at her. His eyes are filled with sorrow for a second before they change to determination.  _ Take the shot, _ he mouths softly enough that Jason doesn’t feel his jaw moving. Betty is baffled, looking at the way Jughead’s body is covering most of Jason’s. She could not risk shooting him, she simply couldn’t. There were few things in life that Betty would not be able to deal with and hurting Jughead in any capacity was one of them. She’s looking back at him, distressed both by his idea and by the story Jason is sharing. 

_ I can’t do it. I can’t.  _ She tries to communicate with her eyes to him, to tell him “No!” and he seems to understand but repeats himself.  _ Take the shot.  _ Betty hears the rest of what he’s not saying. The way his eyes are looking at her adoringly, as if it’s the last time he’d ever see her.  _ No, no! _

The severity of this situation lies in the possibility of a goodbye never said. 

Betty’s hands are steady on the gun. Jughead gives her a tiny nod of encouragement. A tear falls from her eyes and she blinks it away, focusing once more. Jughead winks, it’s almost playful. It makes her want to cry, curl up in a ball and pause the world. It’s too much too soon. They haven’t had their discussion yet, she always knew the possibility of dying on this job and she knew Jughead would willingly die if it meant eradicating a threat as big as Jason Blossom from the world, but she was not ready to face a reality without him in it. Still, she takes a deep breath, bracing herself. 

“Are you listening to me? You ungrateful little-”

Betty takes the shot. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, SO. THE SECRET IS OUT. And with a cliffhanger... don't kill me. I honestly never knew I had it in me to write a chapter that's 13k long.  
> Actually proud of myself for that one.  
> I've had this outline for AGES, you guys. It feels so good to finally write this. *sigh* I know some of you were interested in the case, I hope I did it justice and explained some of it. Kudos to the ones that had it figured it out from a couple chapters ago ;)  
> Hope you guys liked it, as much as I enjoyed writing this. We've only got two more chapters to go :)  
> You're the best <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the amazing jandjsalmon, who is the best unicorn on earth.

When Jughead wakes up in the hospital, he takes inventory of the status of his body. While his upper half feels sore, his lower half feels like he’d been stabbed by a knife. Which had happened, quite literally. God, he hated knives. They were tricky little things, sharp as shit and they had this fast way of getting inside of you.

He shudders lightly at the thought and realizes his left arm is pretty much asleep, enough that he hadn’t really felt her body leaning on it. Looking down, his newest favorite sight is there. Betty Cooper, sleeping with her head perched on his shoulder and her hand over his left arm, curling around it in her sleep. He smiles for a second before the memories start coming back.

_ Finding her. The discussion. Going to Thornhill. Jason Blossom. _

Fuck his entire life, she had been right. In the back of his mind, he always knew she’d solve it. He had seen the intensity of her green eyes and felt her resolve, but this small prick of doubt had made him wary. Jughead knew about getting personally invested in a case and seeing things you wanted to see where they weren’t. While Betty certainly - _ Thank God -  _ wasn’t him, he’d still been afraid that she’d seen more in her evidence than was really there. He’d been afraid that finding out she was just grasping at straws would just hurt her more.

He still remembers looking at her those first weeks working together and thinking:  _ This girl is going to solve it. This girl is special.  _ What Jughead could’ve never anticipated was finding what felt like the strongest connection with another person that he had ever felt in his life. Someone that made him feel more alive and aware than ever. He could’ve never anticipated Betty Cooper, but damn was he glad she had appeared in his life.

Jughead remembers the set of her jaw as she calculated the shot, how even as he was willing to die, he was begging anyone who was listening that he make it out alive to tell her he loved her. That was the epiphany in that moment. Jughead loved Betty. It’s funny the things you realize when your anxiety is high and you’re uncertain if you’re about to die or not… All he had wished for was to stay beside her. What he had told her before driving to Thornhill was true, that kiss had been a punch in the gut. How lovingly she had placed her lips over his in something that resembled a goodbye in the most awful of ways. He never wanted to experience that again with her, all he wanted were all her good mornings and hellos for as long as she’d have him.

She had been incredibly brave yesterday. Even with all the bullshit Jason kept throwing at her, Betty had stood her ground and managed to make a perfect head shot. At the last moment, Jason had moved enough in his angered monologue that Jughead could lean away the inches she needed to comfortably take the shot. It had still been risky, it was still a 50/50 chance type of situation, but Betty had made the perfect shot, making Jason fall flat on his back… finally dead.

The minutes afterwards had been dead silent except for Penelope Blossom’s sobs. Everything from there had been crazy, between him losing an unhealthy amount of blood from his wound and Betty standing there for a couple seconds, panting from shock. She had eventually moved, calling Archie quickly as Jughead fell to the floor because his legs couldn’t hold him up anymore.

Betty set Penelope free, who only sat there crying. Jughead couldn’t really blame her, this was the most chaotic situation he had been in a long long time. Then Betty had proceeded to check on him, by the time she had grabbed his shirt and tied it up on his leg, his vision sported spots of black dots and he could barely think. Jughead remembers vaguely focusing on Betty’s beauty throughout all the chaos. He thinks he might’ve mumbled something, Jughead winces at the thought of saying anything too compromising.

Looking down, his worries are thrown out the window as his insides fill with peace.

Shaking her slightly, Jughead wakes Betty up. “Betts… Betty,” Jug whispers, trying to softly bringing her back. It doesn’t seem to work because suddenly Betty is up with a gasp, looking around for a possible threat.

“Juggie,” she breathes, when her eyes finally focus on him. It hits him like a ton of bricks, her relief and fondness in just one word. Betty leans forward until their noses are touching, her head leaning next to his on the pillow. “You complete and utter asshole!” Jughead can’t help it, he laughs at the sudden insult, sounding so out of place coming from her.

“I can’t believe you’re insulting me while I lay in a hospital bed, Betty. What have you become?” Jughead teases her, wrapping his now awake arm around her, the other getting tangled in her hair as she buries her face in his neck.

“If I never point a gun in your direction, It’ll still be too soon,” Betty mutters, trying to add levity and failing when her voice cracks at the end.

“You did an amazing job, baby. I’m  _ so  _ proud of you,” Jughead tells her, squeezing her further into him. A soft sob leaves her lips and he feels his own eyes water, the whole situation and feelings getting to him. He’s pretty sure most of his muscles are sore from the extreme tension of the situation.

“I was so scared I would hurt you. I would never forgive myself if I had.”

“But you didn’t, Betty. You didn’t hurt me,” Jughead reassures her as she cries. Betty lifts her head from the crook of his neck to grab him and place a kiss on his lips. He deepens it, relishing in the thought that they’re okay, they’ll be okay. It’ll take a while to get there, but together they’d manage it.

“And then you just laid there and wouldn’t stop telling me how  _ pretty  _ I am.” Betty chuckles a little, shaking her head at him, her eyes big and soft. Jughead grimaces a bit.

“Well, at least even when I’ve lost half of my blood I’ve still got amazing taste,” Jughead replies, earning himself a gentle shove from her.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she tells him, eyes roaming all over his face as her thumb goes back and forth on his jaw. She’s looking at him with the same relief he’s feeling, his heart beats faster and he’s suddenly extremely grateful he’s not hooked up to a machine because it’d be beeping like crazy.

“Yeah, I’m glad too. But… how are  _ you _ ?” He needs to ask. Jughead knows there’s no way in hell she’s feeling okay, or that she will feel okay in the next months after what happened but all he knows is that no matter what he wants to be there to help her through it.

“I’m a little better now that you’re awake and okay,” she tells him, pursing her lips and sighing.

“Well, you aren’t getting rid of me that easily.” He feels the light need to beg and plead her to not want to get rid of him, if he’s being honest, but he refrains and simply gives her a crooked smile. Betty, in answer only looks at him for a few seconds, her eyes flying all over his face.

“Good,” she replies simply, the meaning behind her words making his breath catch in his throat. The words are at the tip of his tongue but right now doesn’t feel like the moment or the place. He doesn’t want her to think he’s doing this because of the extremely awful situation they had been in. Far from it, it had been something that’s been growing since the first time he laid his eyes on her.

Jughead settles from leaning forward and kisses her again softly. His tongue teases her bottom lip, his thumb caressing her neck as Betty melts against him, giving into the kiss as much as him. Her hand has snaked to his hair, massaging his scalp, making him groan lightly at the glorious feeling. The moment is interrupted when someone clears his throat, making both of them jump apart. Well, as far as Jughead could jump in his hospital bed.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Archie tells them, pursing his lips.

“No, no, please, come in,” Betty answers him, a light blush on her cheeks. “Hey Pal, how are you?” Jughead asks as Archie gets closer. Suddenly he has an armful of rugged readhead. Archie is hugging him, careful of his leg and not putting his whole body weight on him, but still enough that Jughead’s a bit taken aback in surprise.

“How I am? You motherfucker, going alone and getting stabbed. You were unconscious when I got there.” Archie leans back, lightly punching Jughead’s shoulder. It warms his heart, the concerned look he is giving him.

“I wasn’t really alone-” Jughead starts but Archie’s glare shuts him up. “Sorry for not warning you. To be completely honest we never thought we’d run into Jason himself.”

The name makes Betty’s hands close into a fist. Jughead notices from the corner of his eye and moves his hand to pry her fingers apart, intertwining them with his instead. Betty squeezes his in thanks once, both of them still looking at Archie.

“Yeah, I know. Talking about that…” he begins, scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh, that sounds like you’re here to bring good news,” Betty teases, her eyebrows rising.

“I’m sorry to break the party, but the boss is flying here.” Jughead mutters a light ‘ _ shit’ _ as Archie speaks.

“Betty is not in trouble, is she? I take full responsibility,” He replies, moving to sit up straighter in the bed.

“Jug…”

“No, I’m the one in charge here. If anyone is going to get punished, which frankly we caught this high profile serial killer they should throw us a fucking party, then it’s me who’s going to accept all the fault.” Jughead’s breathless when he finishes and winces as he accidentally moves his leg.

“I don’t think either of you are going to be in trouble honestly. You can totally play the wounded card with Mrs. Dickinson,” Archie states, “She sounded happy over the phone… or as perky as I’ve ever heard her say  _ ‘Andrews, we’ll be over there in about four hours. Be ready.’ _ ”

“Exactly, I’m wounded, couldn’t they give me a breather?” Jughead asks to no one in particular, knowing it wasn’t like things went in an agent’s life but still… a guy could dream. And talking about dreams… “Betts, you probably should not be here when she arrives.”

“What? Why?” Betty asks, her hand pressing harder on his own. Jughead moves his thumb over her knuckles in an attempt to soothe her. His heart skips a bit at the somewhat outraged look on her face because of his statement.

“Because I might take the fall, they might not tell us shit… either way, you not being here maybe could help our case,” Jughead explains. He purses his lips before speaking again. “I really hate to say this, please believe me I do but I think us…  _ this _ , we should keep under wraps  until this is all solved.”

“Jug…” Betty starts, slowly untangling her hands from his.

“So, I need to make a call,” Archie interrupts, pointing his thumb behind him in a way that leaves it clear he’s only just giving them privacy.

“Jughead… I know what you’re asking. I would never jeopardize your career like that.” Betty’s face is a mix of hurt and exasperation that makes Jughead’s throat dry.

“I would,” He says, sitting up in a way that he’s at eye level with her.  _ Fuck it,  _ he thinks. “This is probably too much and too soon but I would completely uproot my life for you. I’m telling you we should keep this under the radar but the truth is I think I’m trying to convince myself that as long as my bosses are here we should keep our distance - at least at the office.”

“Juggie…” Betty is looking at him with wide eyes.

“No, please, I need to say this.” Jughead takes a deep breath, muttering a low ‘ _ jesus fuck’ _ to himself. “I love my job, I’ve dedicated most of my life to it. Broken relationships over it, spent months not seeing my sister for it, and gotten so stressed out that I nearly gave myself a heart attack once. The point is… I love my job and I wouldn’t change it for the world. It’s been the most important thing in my life... But then you came.” Jughead hesitates a second before pulling one of her hands back into his. “You jumpstarted my heart, Betty Cooper. Suddenly my priorities weren’t just chasing down the bad guys, and coming into the office to find you already there was the best part of my day.”

Betty squeezes his hand, giving him the courage he needs to keep going. Jughead knows what’s coming, what he needs to say. He steels himself, expecting a cocktail of feelings - _ mostly fear _ \- to come… and they do, only accompanied by the calm and the comfort of finally saying it.

“We’ve been through hell and back and all I could think of when Jason had me was ‘ _ hell, I  would like to have more time to tell this woman that I love her.’ _ ” A soft sob escapes from Betty’s lips and he’s not sure how to take it. “It might be too soon but I do. I’m not sorry because in all honesty, falling in love with you is high in my top 5 list of best decisions I’ve ever made. Keeping away from you for days is gonna be-”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Betty mutters, interrupting him. Suddenly, her hands are grabbing his face and she’s kissing him.

It’s one hell of a kiss and nothing compared to those they’ve shared. This kiss was all of those kisses pressed into one with the whisper of those to come. Jughead moans into her mouth, snaking his arms around her waist to bring her closer to him. Hope blooms in his chest, wild and unstoppable. She slows their kiss into a stop but doesn’t separate an inch from him.

“I love you too.” Jughead can taste her words on his mouth, something he’ll treasure forever. “God, I love you. I don’t want you jeopardizing something you worked for for years, we can make this work. You’ll come to my house at night after work, I don’t know. I don’t care. We’ll figure it out, right now the priority is you getting better and keeping your job.”

“No, baby… the priority will always be us,” Jughead states, serious for a moment before the corner of his mouth tick upwards. “All you have to do is restrain yourself from touching me at the office. It’ll be hard for you, I know.”

“Keep projecting, buddy,” Betty tells him, raising her eyebrows even as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“You’re right. I’ll be the one pouting all day. Not being able to reach out to you is going to be torture,” he admits, not even slightly embarrassed about the fact.

Betty laughs against his lips, before kissing him again. The taste of her laughter on his tongue is nothing short of a religious experience, something he can see himself believing and praising every single day of his life.

_ This is what life is really about,  _ he thinks.

 

* * *

 

Turns out that all you have to do to get in your boss' good graces is catch a serial killer with a body count of 27  _ discovered  _ bodies and the estimate of 10 other murders not directly linked to him.

Cheryl Blossom’s face had turned more pale than it already was when she had come into the station. Jason had appeared at her doorstep and she had took him in, her lost twin, who was an uncovered serial killer.

_ He looked like my Jay-Jay,  _ she explains. Cheryl swore she never knew the comings and goings of Jason, she had the alibis that matched perfectly. The last trick up her sleeve had been giving Jason’s belongings to the FBI, therefore giving conclusive evidence in the form a little notebook full of Jason's ramblings.

Said notebook, they noticed, had the name of every victim he had claimed. A part of them was writing in neat penmanship and next to them was supposedly the  _ sin  _ that person had committed. The FBI profiler that had tagged along was fascinated in a studious way of how organized and smart Jason had seemed to be. Later on they would realize that being an undiscovered serial killer of that caliber came with a genius IQ and a very early age fascination with medicine. It was only logical since he had remained free for as long as he managed to.

The other part of the names, the fewer portion, written in wild and careless penmanship were his impulses. In these you could find anything, from a local prostitute to single names that when looked up… the girls resembled Polly Cooper. Their hair blonde and long with striking blue eyes, Jughead remembers being instantly sick and trying very hard not to throw up.

_ It could’ve been Betty. _

That thought plague his mind more often than he cared to admit. He doesn’t speak of it, though, not wanting to damage the integrity of the case or delay the paperwork even further. His nightmares begin to feature him kissing Betty, only to find the taste of Maple Syrup on her lips, her eyes blank and lifeless.  _ Jug?  _ Betty asked with a sleep-laced voice one night at 1am after he had had an extremely powerful dream.  _ What’s wrong?  _ Jughead had been helpless to do anything but take her into his arms and shed a few tears into her shoulder. That night they had laid in bed tangled just basking in each other’s presence and holding one another tightly.

All in all, Betty is left alone during the conclusion of the case. The fact that one of her clues had lead to finding Jason weighed more in the eyes of the FBI than what little rules had been broken.   Senior Supervisory Special Agent Dickinson, had given Archie and him the orders to leave Betty alone as they concluded the file, and Jughead had tried extremely hard not to sigh in relief or hug his boss. She had looked at him borderline amused when he assumed all the fault because of the situation.

Between Jughead, Archie and the profiler brought down from Quantico, they manage to compile the information about Jason in the course of a week. The office had been a mess of paperwork but in the end, Jughead felt a sense of pride as everything Betty had said fit the bill. If only the jerk hadn’t been so weirdly specific and they hadn’t lacked so many clues, they would’ve gotten him sooner.  _ So, I was right?  _ Betty had asked as they had dinner, smirk firmly planted on her face.  _ You usually are,  _ Jughead replied as he happily ate the delicious meal she had prepared for them.  _ Please don’t use that against me in the future,  _ he begged her with a dramatic and teasing wince.  _ I make no promises,  _ Betty had replied, giving him the sweetest kiss, his stomach twisting in a powerful knot at the happy look in her eyes.

The story went as follows, or at least the version told by Penelope Blossom. When Jason found out about Polly being his cousin, he flipped. Tables were turned, glasses and expensive china were shattered. He had lost his sanity in a second, calling Polly to make her come to the mansion.

It was hours later when Jason came, petrified and covered in blood to his parents.  _ We did what we had to do,  _ Penelope had said, not a single remorse in her tone. They helped bury her in the forest, Jason being torn apart between insanity and guilt, they decided to fake his death and send him off to a spiritual retreat far away from Riverdale’s prying eyes.

_ I didn’t know she was pregnant,  _ that’s the only moment Penelope’s voice broke an inch. The only moment when the head of the Blossom clan showed emotion, the orange of her prison suit clashing horribly with the green tone her skin had taken. Jughead can’t feel sympathy at all, the image of Betty crying when the information finally set in carved with fire in his brain.

Apparently it all had started as a family feud between the Blossoms, tearing the family in two. The Blossoms and The Coopers. Little did these families know their little son and daughter had found each other and fell in love. Jason had been disgusted and appalled by the news, finding an outlet for his feelings for poor Polly Cooper, who had done nothing wrong but love him. That story  is the one that will appear on the newspapers when all hell breaks loose.

The sensationalist journalism had its claws out, writing stories about the pure Polly Cooper had stumbled into Jason Blossom’s wicked hands, finding her demise there. Jughead wanted to wreck every newspaper in town, the image of Betty’s shocked and sad face permanently ingrained in his brain. Everybody wanted a piece of the Coopers now.

_ Betts, come on… _ Jughead said behind Betty at the shooting range. She kept shooting and shooting with shoulders set.  _ Baby…  _ He tried again, gently touching her elbow.  _ It’s not fair, I wanna punch every single news reporter in the face. It’s either shooting here or seriously considering aggravated assault,  _ Betty tells him, sighing at the end and pinching the bridge of her nose below her safety glasses.  _ Well, now I know we’re spending too much time together, you’re starting to sound like me,  _ Jughead states, taking her gentle chuckle as a signal to finally wrap her in his arms.

Jason, seemingly stable and somewhat happy in his new religious home, pursued the sacred word and started studying to become a priest. Honestly, Jughead had scoffed at this and covered it up with a cough, it was just too much.

This is the part where Penelope lost track of the story and Jason’s whereabouts, being told that Jason one day just disappeared of the temple. Nobody knew where he was and from that date… the dead bodies started appearing. From the looks of it, Jason picked his victims by entering different churches, earning their trust and doing confessionals. In these, people confessed their sins and Jason, taking the role of jury and executioner, killed those he believed evil.

The sins were different, some adulterous and some were truly things that should’ve been penalized by the law. It’s hard to say Jason was triggered by an specific thing, his range morphing and growing wider as he went, expanding the reasons why he should kill people. The urges, though, the names written in scrappy penmanship were when he spent too long without killing anyone.

_ You have to understand, we never really thought he was the one behind it,  _ Penelope had tried to explain. It was too late now, the fact that she had acknowledge her involvement with Polly’s death was enough to warrant her 20 years. The jury had not taken it lightly when told she was the mother of Jason Blossom.  _ This is hell, _ Archie had said looking down at the Everest-look-alike mountain of paperwork they had to work through.  _ No, Arch, hell is other people.  _ Jughead replied, feeling a little ball of paper hit him on the shoulder the next second.

_ He appeared on my doorstep one day,  _ Cheryl had said,  _ he looked the same but with dyed hair. I never would’ve imagined he was the one doing… killing all those people. My parents never told me anything, I woke up to find Jay gone and that’s all the information I ever got. If your missing brother had showed up in your doorstep, what would you have done? _

In hindsight, Jughead would’ve turned him into a living version of a strainer. But this was reality, and sadly, Deloreans were only a car. He felt bad for Cheryl, the sadness plain as day on her face. And then he felt respect for her as she came across Betty in the station and begged for her forgiveness.

Betty had looked pale and shocked out of her mind as Cheryl Blossom clung to her hands as if her life depended on it. Their eyes met, and not reaching out to her had been extremely difficult, so he settled for watching the situation from afar. How Betty enveloped a wrecked Cheryl in her arms, something so  _ her  _ that it made his heart grow.

Of what very few belongings Jason had, the little notebook had been the most valuable to the investigation… until the key appeared. A key, so well hidden it had almost been lost. Inside one of his backpacks, a hidden pocket held a key that opened a storage unit.

In it, there was simply a box. A box that contained various small vials of chemicals. The murder weapon.

Jason, they later would learn, would kill his victims injecting them with an untraceable venom. This killed the victims in a way that made it appear like a heart attack, something that would’ve gone unnoticed if it weren’t for the Maple syrup filled mouths.

That too, had linked them back to his family. Or what he had called the original sinners and devils, back when he held his mother with a knife to her throat. A little token for them to remember their sins, it seemed.

Dickinson even went so far as giving both Jughead and Archie three weeks of vacation as a reward for catching Jason Blossom.  _ Good job, boys,  _ she said. Jughead couldn’t help but feel like a fake, if it weren’t for Betty they would still be looking for Jason. Clueless.

_ Well, there’s nothing stopping us now,  _ Jughead joked once they had entered her apartment, Agent Dickinson had left Riverdale earlier that day and with her departure, his lungs could finally breathe. Betty had scoffed at his cheesiness, a recurrent pattern in their newly developed relationship.  _ Jug?  _ She had come close to him, suddenly serious and the green in her eyes shone bright with a kaleidoscope of emotions he wanted to decipher.  _ Shut up and take me to bed.  _ He left prayers on her skin and promises that he fully intended to keep along with the sweet nothings that had her panting against her mattress.

Later, Jughead shoots at the little target in front of him repeatedly. His muscles are strained and he knows they’re going to be sore once he relaxes. Yet, he can’t. The utter lack of urgency in his daily life has been making him edgy and uneasy. He finds himself waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s unhealthy and he knows it. He should be enjoying it, but he just can’t get it out of his head.. Everything just seemed too good to be true. “Juggie.” Betty calls him from behind as he loads his gun. Jughead turns and there she is in all her beauty and glory. She’s smiling at him, it’s both fond and exasperated. Extending her hand to him she says. “Let’s go home.”

It’s so enticing and simple. The definition of home changes before his eyes. It’s no longer a place, no longer his apartment in New York or the reliable couch within it. Home had a pair of striking green eyes, a quick wit, and blonde hair. The transition is violent and sudden but it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. The cliché statement would make him internally roll his eyes if he weren’t too busy trying to calm his erratic heartbeat and staring lovingly at her.

Jughead smiles at Betty, and takes his things to follow her. Once it’s all put away, he finally grabs her hand. The comforting weight of it makes a shiver go down his spine, the connection is something he hopes will never get old. The novelty of loving and being loved in return with the same intensity.

“Yeah… let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically the story is over. I can't believe it is. *stares out the window dramatically*  
> Writing this without the urgency of a killer on the loose and without Jason's pov at the beginning was hella weird hahaha  
> Next chapter will be an epilogue to show you a bit more of this story I'm so fond of. I'm forever grateful you guy decided to stick with me and keep reading, you have no idea how much it means.  
> Writing this without the urgency of a killer on the loose and without Jason's pov at the beginning was hella weird hahaha  
> This story will always be close to my heart.  
> Thank you all, love you. If y'all need me I'll be staring at my wall while I come to terms this story is practically over...


	10. Chapter 10

**_Year and a half later_ **

Betty takes a deep breath as soon as the doors to Quantico close behind her. Her bags hanging in one hand and her sigh of the future filled with promises. People keep piling up out, looking as excited and overwhelmed as she feels. Families reuniting and the air smells like happiness. 

“Bye, Cooper!” Jonathan yells at her as he walks away. His permanent smirk in place as per usual.

“Bye!” she waves back, a part of her already missing this people she spent all these months with.

It’s been 6 months since she entered this same doors and basically never got out except for a few weekends. She felt the need to romanticize every little thing she sees, how the air tasted like freedom, her heart pumping adrenaline and excitement inside of her.  _ Does everything look greener now? The sky is bluer,  _ She thinks.

_ I’m part of the FBI now. _

Betty Cooper, from the small town of Riverdale is graduating of her training in Quantico with one of the highest scores in her class and the promise of a job in this very same city of Washington.

Things had not been easy. They seem like they were today, but there’s always that nagging in her brain and the doubts that crept at night.

After everything had been dealt with the case of the Jason Blossom, the calm had took place. It was a limbo for her, the way the time seemed to pass slowly and every movement took all her strength, it was like trying to swim in a sea storm everyday. She was right in the middle of it, where it felt like no one could save or see her at all, moments away from drowning. 

They had sent her to therapy, which frankly if they hadn’t she would’ve sent herself, and things started looking up. Having someplace to talk about what happened had opened her wounds in the way they needed to be to heal properly, the metaphorical scars would always be there but today they served more as a reminder of what she had survived than a burden. 

_ I’ve shot my sister’s killer. _

As soon as those words had left her mouth, she had cried like a baby. The absolute reality hitting once more, the blanket of darkness falling all around her, suffocating and blinding. For a couple of months, there had been very little hope and very little light in her life. The town had been permanently changed by the killer.

_ She  _ had been permanently changed. Betty could feel the grips of her PTSD strong in her mind, something she learned to deal with daily. 

Arms would hug her at night, the only moment when she felt safe and tethered to the real world. They would squeeze her tight, sometimes lips would join on her neck, softly caressing and silently whispering _ I’m here, you’re not alone. _

It wasn’t like she felt guilty. Jason had actually deserved it, but even if he had been evil incarnate… he had also been sick and Betty had killed a person. She remembers vividly the way his eyes looked shocked then lifeless. The moments after where her hands shook before her brain had gone in autopilot to help Jughead and release Penelope Blossom. It was like a permanent black spot in her consciousness.

It felt bigger than just Polly. It was, in some ways, bigger than her sister. People had been killed but all she could think about was how suddenly she was not only mourning a sister, but a niece or a nephew. Betty was mourning the death of the last of her innocence, the little girl inside of her that still hoped her sister would come home against all odds, and along with it … the town’s happy façade died too.  

Alice had remained strong, even if distant and detached. Both her parents had made a habit of visiting the graveyard, finally having a place to mourn her daughter. That was one of the things she had been actually - _ weirdly-  _ grateful for after the case, the fact that even after all the horribleness… her parents had a place to go and a person to blame. It did not bring Polly back, but it did make sleeping the tiniest bit easier. 

Betty had only come back once to the cemetery, it felt futile to deny the fact that she felt Polly’s presence following her around. 

Three months after the case got closed was when those arms, the ones that provided safety, started slipping away from and Betty reacted. There was nothing there for her in that small town that looked smaller as the days went by.

It felt suffocating to be in her same apartment, go into the same station. She was no longer a matching piece of this puzzle, her edges were bent and her colors had shifted into something else. She welcomed it, especially when his fingers touched her reverently, as if admiring what had raised from the ashes of her sorrow. 

_ “I can’t do this anymore.” she had said, staring at the wall. Jughead stopped in the kitchen, turning back to her slowly.  _

_ “What did you just say?” his voice had been low but steady and she felt tears in her eyes.  _

_ “I can’t stay here anymore.”  _

_ He was there with her in an instant, kneeling in front of her and lowering the hands that had come to hide her face from the world.  _

_ “Betts, what are you talking about?” she remembers still the slightly panicked look in his eyes. Jughead was the master of concealing things, but she had learned his tells. How his jaw would clench repeatedly when he was nervous, like he’s doing now.  _

_ “You’re going away tomorrow, I can’t stay here.”  _

_ “Your whole life is here, Betts, your job. We can handle long distance, we’ll think of something.” Jughead’s hands rubbed her thighs, silently trying to comfort her.  _

_ “What if I don’t want that life anymore?” Betty whispered, looking at him. It was clear, what she wished to do. His warmth is not something she wished to part from, hell… it’s not only him. It’s the way the eyes followed her around everywhere she went, the pity. “Riverdale doesn’t have anything for me anymore.”  _

_ “Then... what is it that you want?”  _

Betty would always remember the relief she had felt uttering what she had really wanted. 

_ I want more.  _

_ I want you. _

The process had been painful.

She started by giving the Sheriff her four weeks notice. He had nodded, smiling sadly at her not shocked in the least. 

_ “I always knew you were too big for this town, Cooper.”  _

Betty had stared at him, surprised at his words. After that, her destiny had been set in motion and gained momentum. Everything seemed to fall into place with an ease she had never witnessed.

_ “I’m going with you. This town has gotten boring and I simply cannot do without my blonde bestie by my side.” Veronica had told her at their lunch date, after Betty told her the news. “Besides, I might have a redhead hottie waiting for me in D.C. I can only play hard to get for so long, B.”  _

The moving had taken three whole months. Days filled with her parents helping her sell the little furniture and things she couldn’t take with her, days filled with her therapy sessions and feeling like the burden was easier to carry each day, days where she never wavered from the decision she took.  

The moment the plane took off, she felt free. Betty had shed a few tears in the solicitude of the airplane’s bathroom, the weight that had taken permanent residence on her chest suddenly lighter. 

D.C had turned into  _ home  _ in just a couple of months before Quantico had turned into her residence for the last 6 months. 

Betty sighs, bringing herself to the present, her eyes flying all over the place in search for...

_ Jughead. _

Her lips stretch into the biggest smile she can muster, one that is reflected in his face as he makes her way to her. His steps casual, but she can see the slight bounce and the brightness of his eyes. 

“Hey there, str-” That’s as far as he gets before Betty is pulling her arms around his neck and crashing her lips into his. Jughead groans against her, arms coming around her middle and lifting her off the floor.  

Betty chuckles when he puts her down on the floor but not really letting go of her. If anything, he holds her tighter, his forehead touching hers, nose caressing her own. 

“Shit, I missed you.” 

“That has to be the understatement of the year, Jug.” 

Those three months of distance after he left Riverdale didn’t have anything on the 6 whole months of training they had spent apart. She could count with one hand the amount of times she had been allowed to see him in those six months, even if they had talked almost daily it wasn’t enough for her. The contact of his skin to hers makes the feelings rush back inside her, making her stomach turn to knots and her eyes fill with tears.

Jughead leans back a little, hand coming to tuck a tiny strand of hair that had fallen from her ponytail back behind her ear. 

“You’re sight for sore eyes.” she tells him, hand waving through his hair as well. They’re so enraptured with each other they don’t even care they’re still in the public eye. 

“Me?” he scoffs. “You’ve managed to get out of a 6 month hardcore training program looking even more beautiful, which I didn’t even know was possible. I looked like death warmed over when I got out.” 

“Extremely doubtful.” Her lips are on his again, it’s soft and gentle, carrying a whole current of words in a matter of seconds. 

“Just so you know, you’re not allowed to go away from more than 3 days. It’s a new rule, I can’t go months without seeing you daily anymore.” Jughead teases, finally tearing himself from her body and grabbing both her hand and her suitcase as they make their way to his car. 

“I think I can get behind that rule.” she replies, leaning her head on his shoulder as they walk. 

The 20 minute trip to his apartment is spent with Betty telling him the latest news about Quantico. He listens, taking advantage of every single red light to turn to look at her and maybe sneak a few kisses, her fingers trace the muscles of his forearm delightedly looking the goosebumps rise and the little glare he shoots her way. 

There’s something possibly glorious about being next to him and being able to touch him without an impending clock counting their moments together before she has to go back. It sets the fire inside of her into a blaze, roaring and all consuming. 

He opens the door to his apartment, it’s the same as usual and she finds comfort in that. Jughead leaves her suitcase near the door for now, making his way to the kitchen as he speaks. 

“I know it’s a little late for lunch but I would not be opposed to making some grilled cheese. You must be hungry, right?” His words are lost on Betty as she stares at the new picture on the fridge. 

It’s a selfie she took of them on those months they spent together before entering Quantico. Betty is laughing at something Jughead has said, her eyes are closed and her grin matches the one in his face. They’re standing close together, not a care in the world.

“I love that picture.” Jughead says behind her, making her startle. “I figured I could put it next to the other thing that I love, food.” Betty smiles at the shit eating grin on his face before taking a step forward, eliminating the space between them. 

“Jug?” 

“Hmm?” he looks dazed, licking his lips as his eyes take her in. 

“Take me to bed, please.” her tone is breathy with want, her heart failing to keep up with all her emotions and she just needs to be close, she just needs him. 

“Only because you asked so nicely.” 

In the end, they might have been apart the majority of 6 months… but their bodies know each other the same. 

Two sides of the same coin.

 

* * *

 

The morning light filters through Jughead’s window, making her stir. She stretches, making her back pop as she groans. The other side of the bed is empty, surprisingly. She aches in all the good places and her heart feels  _ so  _ full. 

The clock claims it’s almost 9.30am as she gets up, making her way to the bathroom. After, Betty moves to the kitchen barefoot and wearing only a t-shirt of his and her panties, following the sweet and wonderful smell of breakfast. 

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Jughead greets, turning around and handling her a mug, which she happily takes, thanking him with a swift kiss. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” she asks, taking a seat as she nurses her beverage. Jughead puts a plate with some toasts and jams in front of her. 

“You looked super cute sleeping. Plus, I figured you needed it.” 

“Oh, I did. Someone worn me out yesterday.” Betty bites into her toast, wiggling her eyebrows at him playfully, making him laugh at her antics. 

“I didn’t hear any complains.” he teases, winking at her. 

“And you never will.” 

The rest of the toasts are quickly devoured, apparently she had an appetite. It’s this look he keeps giving her, one that she slightly recognizes from moments yesterday, as if he was internally gathering courage. Betty can no longer ignore it so she stares at him dead in the eye for a good minute before speaking. 

“Okay, spill it.” 

“What?” he asks, confused for a second. Tilting his head to the side as he does sometimes, it makes him look strangely adorable.

“You’ve had this look since yesterday. I wanna know what it is about.” she clarifies, moving the plate and the cup aside, elbow taking place on the liberated space to pop her head on her hand. 

“I almost forgot how perceptive you are, Betts.” Jughead sighs, smiling fondly at her. 

“It’s one of my charms.” 

“It’s definitely something.” he complies, chuckling. Jughead scratches his chin, another nervous tick of his. “So, you’re officially part of the FBI.”

“Now, who’s the observant one?” Betty says, laughing when he reaches to lightly pinch her arm. She grips his wrist before he can go too far and laces their fingers together. 

“Okay, so… for the last month and a half we’ve been lacking a profiler.” He explains, fingers twitching against hers. “And I might or might not have been keeping the spot open for you.”

“You’re joking.” Betty blurts out, stunned. 

“I am not. We work wonderfully together, Betts. It certainly helps that you’ve got the highest scores in your class and with a few recommendations letters, I was able to convince my boss to let the spot open for you. I would be so incredibly honored if you decided you wanted to work with me again.”

“Jughead…” Betty starts, eyes tearing up at the tender gesture. All the other job offers fly out the window in a second because this is what she had truly wanted. “I can’t believe you did this.” 

“Yeah well…” Jughead shrugs, his other hand scratching his neck nervously. “And I was thinking, you know… I’d maybe sweeten the deal. There’s this dude that’s been looking for a roommate. Black messy hair, blue eyes, weird nickname. He’s very charismatic, has wicked aim, apparently he’s very handsome and promises to love you for as long as you’d let him basically. Seeing as he conveniently lives near the office, I thought that maybe instead of looking for an apartment you’d move in with him?” Jughead looks up at her, hope in his eyes. “Of course, you can say no to any of those offers. Or maybe just the second one, that’s completely okay by me. I just thought that mayb-”

Betty is silencing him with a kiss before he continues rambling. She crawls into his lap, kissing him with every ounce of love she has inside of her. She kisses his mouth, his cheeks, his nose then his mouth again. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes.” She chants against him as he chuckles. Jughead squeezes her against his chest. 

“You’ve taken to shutting my grand speeches with a kiss, I’m beginning to think you don’t really want me to talk.” Jughead tells her, now planting kisses on her neck and jaw. 

“Would you rather I let you spiral until you’ve turned yourself into a black hole?” Betty asks, pulling at his hair so she can access his lips. “Next time I’ll let you talk.”

“The next time I deliver a grand speech will probably be when I ask you to marry me, so I take it back, shut me up with a kiss anytime.” his words are sure as they slip from his lips and she freezes a little in his lap. The earnest look in his eyes makes her feel as if her heart is growing three sizes. “You think you will answer with a yes to that one too?” It’s a shy question, the little doubts making their way into his expression. 

“I might let you stew a little first.” Betty jokes, smiling brightly at him. “I’ll have the rest of my life to make it up to you.” 

“Hmm.” Jughead tries to control the smile on his face and visibly fails, leaning close so their lips are touching. “What do you say you start making it up to me now?” Suddenly he’s standing and Betty squeals, wrapping her legs around his waist so she won’t fall. Not that he would, with his hands gripping her thighs. 

Two years later, she doesn’t really let him finish proposing before she’s kissing him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All was well. *wipes tear away*  
> This is short and sweet. Sorry if you guys were expecting a 13k again but I just wanted to give you a little sneak peek at the good and wonderful life these two will lead.   
> This fic will always have a huge portion of my heart, it was the first thing that felt mine writing wise and that turned to have a life of its own. I spent months researching trying to make it believeable, I hope I did it justice. I couldn't have wished for better readers than the ones I got, you guys made my day always commenting on this. I might've writting this tiny beast, but I suck at thank you notes. I would, however, like to thank my main girls jandjsalmon for being the first encourager and Beta reader of most of these chapters and mothermaple, who is the sweetest cheerleader around.   
> Thank you for tagging along on this journey, now... onto other adventures :)
> 
> -C


End file.
